An Improper Affair
by mariamaple
Summary: Darcy and Elizabeth find their attraction for each other impossible to ignore. Can such improper behavior overcome the misunderstandings of Pride and Prejudice?
1. Chapter 1

Elizabeth looked up from her book as the door to the Netherfield library opened. Her eyes discreetly peered over the top of the pages and immediately recognized Mr. Darcy's tall form. She hastily returned her gaze to the page, but it appeared he had not seen her on the settee in the corner. She should make her presence known and acknowledge him, but perhaps if she looked engrossed in her novel, she could avoid the formality. Maybe he would simply leave without seeing her. He had been so taciturn in almost all of their previous encounters; she would not put it past him to simply ignore her, even if he did realize she was there.

Darcy paced back and forth in front of the shelves stopping once and a while to look closer at a title. Sighing with frustration and shaking his head at the lack of modern literary options in Bingley's library, he settled on a book of naval warfare that looked as though it had been untouched on the shelf since the start of the war with the French. Why did he not think to bring along a few books to keep himself occupied? He should have known Charles would have overlooked a well-managed library; the current selections in all likelihood had been abandoned by the landlord. Resigned to his choice, Mr. Darcy retired to the armchair in the corner bringing with him, in lieu of a missing footrest, the short steps used for reaching the upper bookshelves.

Elizabeth watched Mr. Darcy discreetly from the opposite corner of the room, fascinated to see a less formal persona emerge, his feet propped up on a footstool for lack of proper furnishings in the room. He balanced the book in one hand and lazily rested his head the other, his elbow propped up on the arm of the chair. Absentmindedly flipping through the pages with his thumb, he released a cloud of dust that caused him to sneeze loudly.

"Blast, Bingley! Am I the first to open a book in here?" Darcy cried out, reaching for his handkerchief. Elizabeth was unable to stifle a soft laugh at the scene. Noticing her for the first time, Darcy stiffened and nodded his head to her. "I apologize, Miss Elizabeth, I did not see you there. Please pardon my outburst."

"No apology necessary, Mr. Darcy," replied Elizabeth, returning her focus to her book. "You may find some more well-read novels and poetry on the top shelf. Despite being more difficult to reach, they seem to be the least dusty."

Muttering his thanks, he easily reached up and chose a volume from that shelf before sitting down again. This time, he sat more formally and did not rest his head on his hand. Elizabeth noticed the difference in his carriage when he knew she was there versus his more relaxed deportment when he thought he was alone and found herself amused at the thought that there might be a less proper side to Mr. Darcy.

Darcy was mortified that his exclamation had been overheard and by Miss Elizabeth no less. She made a charming picture curled up like a cat, her feet discreetly covered by her dress but clearly up on the seat aside her, her back resting among the mismatched pillows she appeared to have gathered from around the room to make herself a comfortable nook. Had she fallen asleep there? Is that why she had not said anything when he entered the room? He would have liked to find her resting there, as he could have observed her openly without her noticing instead of trying to catch a glimpse of her over his book. A strand of her hair fell over her face. From across the room, he wished he could reach out and push it behind her ear, cup her beautiful face, and graze her cheek with his thumb. Her lips parted slightly, showing just how lustrous they were… how pink and soft they looked…

He crossed his leg to rest on his knee, feeling a familiar throb in his loins. He would have to distract himself or risk awkwardness. If he let his thoughts wander, he might not be able to walk out of the room without embarrassment.

They sat like this for another half an hour; Elizabeth determined to ignore his presence and Darcy trying to disguise his interest in hers. It was getting late, but Elizabeth was almost finished with her book and wanted to return it and take another to read in bed before leaving the library. She finally turned the last page, thinking about the brazen conclusion to the novel. The heroine had taken some bold actions, but contrary to most stories of girls acting out of turn, this leading woman had achieved everything she wanted. Elizabeth liked the thought of charting her own path, despite what society demanded of her. Her mother may be concerned about marrying off her daughters for their financial security, but Elizabeth was determined to pursue a life of contentment. Could she find a marriage of respect and equality, even if that meant she would not have the same luxuries she currently knew?

She started to rise, but realized her bare feet were tucked up under her dress and her slippers down on the floor. Sneaking a look at Mr. Darcy, she ensured he was engrossed in his book before quickly sliding her feet into her shoes. Walking over to the shelves, she eyed the top one where her novel belonged. Though he was not using it as a footrest anymore, Mr. Darcy had not returned the footstool, and she did not want to approach him to ask for it. Thinking she might be able to reach anyway, Elizabeth stepped on the edge of the base under the shelves to give herself a few more inches of height. As soon as she tried to step up, her foot slipped, and she let out a small exclamation as her hand clasped onto the shelf to prevent her fall.

A moment later, she felt a hand on her waist and a warmth against her back.

"Please, allow me to help," Mr. Darcy's deep voice resounded in her ear, and she felt a deep vibration from his chest against her body. His right hand did not leave her waist, but his left followed up the line of her arm to take the book from her and place it securely in its spot. She froze under his touch and proximity; the pounding of her heart in her chest and the flutter in her stomach was paralyzing. Though the book was no longer in her grasp, her hand was frozen on the edge of the shelf above her. She turned her head over her shoulder and saw him looking down at her, his breath seemingly caught as well. Unsure of how to respond to their current position, she nevertheless found herself more surprised than displeased with the situation.

"Thank you," she whispered, unsure of what else to say. "I thought I could reach it without the footstool and avoid disturbing you, but…" her voice faded away.

"Miss Elizabeth, you need not worry about disturbing me…" He could not help himself, she was so warm, and it felt so wonderful… so right… to have her close. His arm still outstretched at the top shelf, he slowly ran his hand over hers, traced down her arm and over her shoulder, and finally moved that errant lock of hair so he could see her graceful neck and collarbone. His hand continued to move down her side, barely brushing the side of her breast as it came to rest on her waist opposite his other hand. Feeling a warmth radiating between them, me moved from her waist to hold her hips, and felt for a moment a protective desire of her rise within him. She gasped quietly at his touch, but did not push him away. Her outstretched hand came to rest on a shelf closer to her cheek.

"Mr. Darcy," she whispered. He stopped, and looked at her face. Her eyes were closed, and he waited for her response before he continued.

Elizabeth opened her eyes, and was surprised to find his face only inches from her own. She knew she should tell him to stop, call him a cad, and leave before someone found them. The consequences of being caught in such a compromising position with any man, let alone the proud Mr. Darcy, were unimaginable, but the feelings he was exposing in her were difficult to deny. There was an aching between her legs, and as she shifted her hips slightly, she could feel a wetness there. With her slight movement, she also felt Mr. Darcy's hardness pressed up against her; it was a powerful feeling to know that she had inspired such a reaction in this man. Confused, she looked away from him and whispered, "But I thought you only found me tolerable…"

Mr. Darcy froze, mortified that she apparently overheard his comment to Bingley at the Meryton assembly. He had been in a foul mood and looking for any excuse to not dance. He knew it was a lie when he said it to Bingley, but he was not in a humor to explain his situation to his friend at the time. It was easier to be unpleasant than honest when he wanted the always affable Bingley to leave him alone.

It pained Darcy to see the hurt he had caused her, and his eyes drank in her form pushed up against his. He was acting barbaric, but she was responding, and he could hardly tear himself away from her now. In that moment, he knew as clearly as anything that he would treat her honorably… duty be damned, he had never responded in this way to any other woman, and he knew he had enough power and freedom to make his own choices.

He lowered his lips to her ear, and responded, "And now Elizabeth, how do you think I find you?" His voice carried a shiver down the back of her neck and made her tremble. Her hand gripped the shelf in front of her as his lips began to trace her neck, sucking softly. One of his hands traveled around to her stomach and rose up the front of her body, softly tracing her breast. She let out a small moan, and he responded by pressing into her harder, squeezing her breast and losing his mind to the sweet sensation of her compliant warmth against him. He slipped her sleeve from her shoulder, exposing more of her soft skin. His hand moved under the cloth of her dress to recapture her bare breast. His lips traced her shoulder and up her neck. She began to gasp at every new sensation, and her body responded to his touch as if drawn wherever his hands led. Noticing her movement, Darcy slowly brought his other hand from her waist to rub his fingers over the tender spot between her legs, the smooth fabric of her dress warming from his touch. A louder moan escaped her throat, and he started to become aware that they were not in the privacy of the Pemberley library as he was imagining in his fantasy.

He stopped his ministrations, and spun her around to face him. He lifted her slightly to sit on the ledge of the bookcase. Her wide eyes looked up at him filled with innocence and passion. He took her cheek in his hand, running his thumb over her soft skin. Their gaze held until he slowly lowered his lips to hers. Despite his urgent need for her, he kissed her softly and pulled back to look at her lovely face, her eyes now closed and her lips puckered and waiting for him to return.

Return he did, kissing her with more pressure and intensity. His hand reached back into her curls while the other again found her waist and pulled her into him. His groin pulsed with need of her, and he slowly began to ease her legs apart to allow him to move closer. He felt the slender outline of her thigh through her dress, and she shivered as he began to trace his fingers down her leg. He slowly hiked her dress up to her knees and slipped his hand underneath to find the edge of her chemise. When his hand touched the warm softness of her thigh, she again began to moan. Quieting her exclamation with his own mouth, he parted her lips with his tongue. Slowly, his hands inched higher until they reached her warm wetness. Elizabeth froze at his touch, and he moved back slightly to study her face. Her eyes showed a little shock at the pleasure she felt, and they locked gazes as he saw her become more and more affected. Her breathing became labored and loud, and he returned his mouth to quiet hers. Her arms wrapped tightly around his back, one hand running through his short hair. He felt her move in rhythm and knew she must be close. She could feel a tension rising within her when she suddenly heard a thump in the hall and froze.

Immediately they broke apart. Darcy moved to the door to stop anyone who might try to enter while Elizabeth sorted her skirt and attempted to right her hair. They looked at each other in silence, straining to hear any other sound of movement from the hall. The clock on the mantle ticked almost as loud as their racing hearts. After several minutes, their breathing steadied, and they felt confident that whoever had been passing by the library was gone.

Mortification rose within Elizabeth. What had she just allowed to happen? She was not prone to any such behavior before, but when Mr. Darcy held her close, it was as though she had no control. She had bent to his every touch, welcomed his kiss. It was unclear what confused her more- his apparent attraction to her, or her response to him. Neither seemed to know what to say to break the silence, but she knew that should they stay there, they would likely be found together. There may be nothing amiss about them both being in the library, but she somehow felt that if someone came across them now, they would immediately know what had just transpired.

She turned back to the bookcase to try to steady the fluttering in her heart that would not subside while she looked at him. Apprehension was now replacing her feeling of surprise. What should she do? What would he expect now? Was she ruined? What must he think of her to have approached her in such a manner?

"Miss Elizabeth…" Darcy ventured, taking a step toward her.

She held up her arm to keep him from coming closer, not able to look at him again.

"Please Mr. Darcy… I cannot imagine what has come over me to act in such a disgraceful way."

"Surely, you do not blame yourself for my actions. I have behaved in a most abominable manner—I never intended- I cannot explain…" He stammered over his words.

She finally turned to him and could see in his eyes that he truly looked troubled. He dared not approach her further, but neither could he leave her in this state. He was resolved; he would ask her to marry him in a heartbeat, but right now she was upset, and he wanted to comfort her first. Slowly he returned to her side but kept from touching her again.

"Can I do anything for your present comfort? A glass of wine, perhaps?" he asked her.

"No, I thank you. I need but another few moments to compose myself."

"Miss Elizabeth… Elizabeth… you must know how sorry I am for taking advantage of you… I lost control over myself in the moment. It will not happen again, you have my word…"

At this, she looked away, embarrassed by the deep feeling of distress at his assurances that it would not happen again. She had never felt those feelings, those sensations before, but she knew there was something more.

Elizabeth was not so naïve as to not know what passed between men and women, preferably after marriage, for she had heard of scandals around the village involving young maidens and unscrupulous rogues. She could not quite bring herself to apply the term "unscrupulous" to Mr. Darcy though. She did not know much about him… he was wealthy, proud… he wrote to his sister frequently. He had always stared at her to find fault, or so she thought. Clearly he found her attractive, and she was not unaffected by him either.

Elizabeth finally found the courage to reply, "You need not worry, sir, that I will be calling for my father to force you down the aisle." She said with a slight pause, "Perhaps we can part here and forget that anything has transpired between us." Her forehead was leaning against the cool wood of the bookcase as she tried to avoid looking at him. He reached out to brush her thumb against her cheek.

She turned to him, somewhat confused by his continued attention. She could not let herself give into his touch again. Too scared to allow herself to lose control, she stepped away. A lump rose in her throat making it difficult to breathe, let alone speak. She instead turned back to the shelves and sought a book she could bring to her room, so if she were seen leaving the library she could at least have that as an excuse for being there at this late hour. She reached briefly for the top shelf but thought better of it and looked lower. Mr. Darcy chuckled as he watched her, reading her thoughts as plainly as if she spoke them aloud.

"Please allow me to get what you are looking for, or at the very least fetch the footstool. I could not subject you to the dust of an old naval war volume."

She smiled meekly and indicated the book she sought, and he easily retrieved it for her.

"Miss Elizabeth…" he started, but she shook her head and made to walk past him. He reached for her arm to stop her, and as he gently turned her back to him, he saw tears starting to fall down her cheeks.

"What must you think of me?" she whispered. She did not wait for his reply before running out of the library. Fortunately, she passed no one in the hall in her flight back to her bedroom.


	2. Chapter 2

Elizabeth slipped into her room and leaned back against her door, trying to calm her nerves. She hugged the book from the library against her chest and breathed in deeply. Caroline's maid would be in to see to her evening routine soon, and she did not want to look as though she had been crying. No doubt, it would raise some suspicion if the young woman mentioned it to her mistress. Conflicting thoughts began to run through Elizabeth's mind. What had just happened? What had caused such a change in Mr. Darcy? And why had she felt unable to control her own desires?

Her parting question to Mr. Darcy continued to trouble her. What _did_ he think of her? She remembered vividly when he called her only "tolerable" at the assembly. Whenever she caught him looking at her, she assumed he was only staring to criticize. His stern expression certainly never hinted of any attraction. Clearly, she had misinterpreted those looks. Or perhaps his opinion of her was even lower than she imagined, for what gentleman would approach a respectable lady in such a fashion? That he felt she would accept such advances confirmed to her his low opinion of her character, if not her appearance. She wiped away her tears and began to prepare for bed, trying to grapple with growing feelings of guilt and something else she could not quite identify.

After a few minutes, Caroline's maid entered by the servant's door, but Elizabeth had composed herself so as not to raise any suspicion. Emily combed out Elizabeth's curls and put her hair into a simple braid. "How does Miss Bennet fare?" she inquired.

"Better, thank you. She retired early, but I believe we will still be able to leave tomorrow," replied Elizabeth. They would _have_ to leave tomorrow, for she did not know how she would be able to face Mr. Darcy again. Ever again.

The young girl smiled in response. "It was lovely to attend you ma'am."

Elizabeth replied in kind, and the maid left her for the night. Retiring to the bed with her book in hand, Elizabeth was hoping she might fall asleep while reading, for her thoughts alone were far too frantic to hope for any rest. She had just opened the cover when a light knock came from the servant's door. Thinking Emily must have forgotten something, Elizabeth called for her to enter.

To her utter shock, it was not the young maid, but Mr. Darcy, who stepped through. She stared wide-eyed at him, but could not bring herself to speak. He looked back through the door to check that no one had seen him enter and then closed it quickly behind him.

"Miss Elizabeth. Please… I could not leave things between us in such a manner. You asked when you left what I must think of you, and I could not possibly make it through the night with you worrying that I thought ill of you or your behavior. It is _my_ behavior that has been most improper," he said with a slight note of panic in his voice. He stopped and gazed around her room briefly. "And I continue to importune you in your privacy… but I simply need for you know that I hold the responsibility for what has transpired."

"Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth exclaimed, recovering her senses. "You cannot be in here! What if someone finds you? My maid only just left."

"Yes I waited for her to go before I stepped from my hiding place."

"And how came you to know so much about Netherfield's servant passages?" she inquired, raising an eyebrow archly at him.

Darcy smiled and looked away from her. "I have become quite desperate to avoid Miss Bingley; she follows wherever I go."

Elizabeth could not help but let a small laugh escape her. She turned her gaze down to her hands, wringing them in her lap. "I thank you Mr. Darcy for coming to try to ease my guilt, but being free of your chastisement does not free me from my own."

He paced away from the doorway and then back, running his hand through his hair in an agitated manner. "But why should you blame yourself for my actions?" he entreated her. "I am more deserving of your ill opinion than yourself."

She looked uncomfortably at the pained look in his eyes. "In truth, sir, it is not your actions that bother me so much as my response to them. I should have insisted you stop." She returned her gaze to her hands. "But I did not."

Darcy cursed himself for putting her in such a position, for giving in to his basest desires, but the admission of her mutual desire made him desperate to continue her pleasure. He swallowed audibly and approached her bedside, kneeling down beside her. He stopped her worrying hands, taking one in his own and bringing it up to lips to place a lingering kiss there. Then he turned it over to kiss her palm and then her wrist. Her breath caught as she met his eyes.

Heat rose in her cheeks, and she felt the longing for his touch within her again. The impropriety of her thoughts caused her to tense, and she tried to pull her hand away. He clung to it saying, "Elizabeth if you ask me to go, I will, but if you did not want me to stop earlier, I beg of you to let me finish what I began." She was silent, contemplating the desire to find the _something_ that had been interrupted before. She weighed the decision against years of learning about the irreversibility of lost female honor. Sensing the reason for her pause, Mr. Darcy continued, "I promise your virtue will remain intact."

"Is that even possible?" she inquired, knowing it hardly mattered in the eyes of society how far things went between them now that this first transgression had occurred. People had been forced to marry for far less scandalous acts.

"Let me show you."

He remained kneeling on the floor beside her, folding back the covers to expose her. A white nightgown clung to her body, and he felt himself become aroused seeing her so beautifully reposed, the skin of her calf already showing. He placed his hand there, slowly moving up to her thigh. His other hand reached up and traced her jawline, down her neck, across her collarbone and down to her breast. Feeling the tension in her body, he begged her to relax. Her gaze met his, and a silent trust formed between them. With a final glance at his face, she allowed herself to close her eyes and ease into a comfortable position leaning against the headboard. His fingers traced smoothly over her soft inner thigh, and she quivered with anticipation. His other hand traced the outline of her body over her nightgown, feeling her hard nipples through the fabric. He fingered the tie at her neck, loosening it to allow his hand access to her bare breast.

Shifting himself to sit beside her on the bed, he continued caressing her smooth skin. His fingers finally felt the wet heat between her legs and she gasped as he gently eased a finger inside of her. He slowly pressed in and pulled out, applying slight pressure as he did so. His thumb came to glide over the tender nub above her opening, and she began again to moan and gasp quietly, her hands gripping at the bedding beside her.

Never stopping his ministrations, he leaned over to take a nipple into his mouth, swirling the hard lump with his tongue and sucking softly. This induced another exclamation from her, and he again began to think about noise carrying into the hall. He brought his mouth up to hers, taking a soft kiss before whispering, "Elizabeth, do try to stay quiet." She opened her eyes, and nodded softly before closing them again. She was able to lay silently for a few minutes more as he continued exploring her body with his hands and mouth. Despite the heat of his touch, the room was cold, and without the blanket on, she was unable to suppress a shiver. Darcy noticed immediately and paused briefly to try to cover her again, but he could not attend to her from his current position while she was under a blanket.

"Elizabeth, I would like to move behind you- if you will allow me," he asked quietly.

She nodded her approval, and he shifted her away from the head of the bed so he could sit behind her. He placed her between his legs and brought the covers over them both. Her head rested comfortably on his chest, and he could feel her relax into him. Her form fit perfectly against his body, their heat warming each other even more beneath the blanket. His finger returned between her legs, this new angle allowing him to stroke directly her most sensitive parts. His other hand moved along her stomach, down her thigh, and back up to her breasts. She eased her head back to rest on his shoulder, and his lips traced along her neck and collarbone. From this position, he could pull her against his throbbing member, and he began to move against her softly to satisfy his own ache, matching the rhythm of his fingers on her folds.

Elizabeth began to tense, breathing heavily. Despite her efforts to stay quiet, ever-higher whimpers escaped her. She let out a moan bordering on a yell, and Darcy brought his unoccupied hand up to cover her mouth. Straining against his other hand as it caressed between her legs, she moved in rhythm with him, adding to the pleasure he gained from having her pressed up against him. She continued to moan into his palm, and he shushed soothingly into her ear. His fingers softly slipped over that tender spot, entering her warm folds. With a final spasm, she tensed, and he heard her soft moans reverberate through her throat and chest. Finally spent, she relaxed into his embrace, and he removed his hand from her mouth, kissing her softly but passionately instead.

She smiled as she closed her eyes and instinctively turned into him. His lips lingered on her forehead as his arms brought her tight into his embrace. She reached up to place her hand on his chest, her fingers tracing the edge of the opening of his shirt. They were silent for a few minutes, but increasingly anxiety began to creep back into Elizabeth's thoughts. She distracted herself with playing with one of the folds in his shirt.

"I-"

"We-"

Darcy and Elizabeth both paused, each waiting for the other to continue.

"Please, Elizabeth," Darcy continued, using her Christian name with familiarity and ease. "I know you likely have doubts, but please let us lie here just a little longer."

She looked up into his eyes, and felt her questions of herself and for him take pause. He should leave, but she could not bring herself to make him go. So much for the arrogant man she thought she had figured out. She had been so proud of herself for not being impressed by his ten thousand a year like many of the women in Meryton, thought herself so clever for disliking him, but she could not deny that his tenderness in this moment had dismantled that dislike rapidly.

She did not know how long they lay there, but at some point in the darkness of the night she was groggily aware of movement around her, and a feeling of coldness settling in as Mr. Darcy slipped out from behind her. She made a small effort to open her eyes, and found him kneeling beside her bed. "We shall have to talk soon Elizabeth, but I must leave before the staff wakes." He kissed her forehead and she softly squeezed his hand before he disappeared into the servant's entrance. Elizabeth drifted off again into a pleasant sleep.

Darcy moved carefully back through the passage. He would certainly make it back into his room before his valet saw his untouched bed. Before visiting Elizabeth, his man had attended him, so he should have no reason to suspect anything if Darcy got back before the morning routine. He had refused to allow himself to join Elizabeth in sleep in case he lost track of time. Being found out of his bed was one thing, but being found in hers- she would have been ruined. He could not jeopardize her reputation in such a disgraceful way. His intention was to speak to her in the morning and then approach her father after, but he would rather become betrothed absent of any scandal.

He reached his room without incident, the hour far too early for anyone to be awake yet. His cold bed left him longing to feel the heat from her body. He indulged his memories of her form, no longer a fantasy in his imagination, and stroked himself to release his built up passion before falling into a deep sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

At breakfast before Sunday services, Elizabeth entered the dining room later than she had any other morning during her stay at Netherfield. Even Jane had finished her meal by the time Elizabeth sat at the table.

"Miss Elizabeth! Is this not late for you? I thought you an early riser!" Miss Bingley teased. Mrs. Hurst's high-pitched laugh caused Elizabeth to wince.

"Yes, Miss Bingley, but I found myself a bit more tired than usual this morning," replied Elizabeth, determined not to look at Mr. Darcy.

"Oh dear, yes to you do look very tired! Those are some dark circles under your- _fine_ \- eyes," Miss Bingley continued, looking over at Darcy as she mimicked his earlier remark about Elizabeth's brightest features.

"Might you have caught your sister's cold, Miss Elizabeth?" asked Mr. Darcy, a look of amusement in his eyes. "Perhaps you should extend your stay at Netherfield to recuperate. We will certainly continue to take care of your _needs_ ," Elizabeth felt a blush rise in her face at his apparent allusion to their indiscretion of last night. Mr. Bingley took his turn to formally extend the invitation should she feel unwell, even suggesting that Jane also stay to attend her sister in return for Elizabeth's previous care. Jane was truly worried for a moment about her sister's health, while Miss Bingley looked utterly aghast at such a suggestion.

"That will not be necessary, I assure you I am not ill, only tired," Elizabeth replied, casting a discreet but chastising glare at Mr. Darcy that warned him not to continue with his teasing.

"Indeed, Miss Elizabeth you look truly healthy!" Miss Bingley's shrill voice cut into the conversation. "Your family must certainly be missing you, and who but your family could offer better care if you were ill? Yes, it will be a relief for you and Miss Bennet to return to Longbourn." Elizabeth smiled behind her teacup at Miss Bingley's undisguised eagerness to rid her brother's house of Bennets.

Shortly after, the party left for the chapel. Mr. Darcy helped the ladies into one carriage together, his hand lingering a moment longer than necessary on Elizabeth's. He and the other gentlemen would ride separately in a second carriage. Darcy was frustrated he had not had an opportunity to speak to Elizabeth yet. He had arisen early, hoping to catch her alone before everyone else came down for breakfast, but she had not appeared. Now they would have to sit through services, and then the Bennet sisters would borrow the carriage to return directly to Longbourn.

During the service, Mr. Darcy sat behind Elizabeth, making it impossible for him to focus on the pastor and his sermon. More often than not, he caught himself staring at her back, his eyes caressing the line where last night his lips traced over her neck. Shaking his head and pinching himself to maintain control over his urges, he forced himself to listen to the parson's words.

Elizabeth could hardly claim to be less distracted. She imagined every second that Mr. Darcy's eyes were on her, but had enough discipline not to turn back and look at him. She felt almost as exposed as she had last night in her own bed, and she cursed her inability to control her thoughts in this house of God. Surely, the blush she felt in her cheeks would make her shame obvious to everyone! Yet the minister carried on with his sermon without calling her out.

It was with great frustration after the service that Mr. Darcy helped Elizabeth back into one of the carriages bound for the Bennet home, a significant look passing between them before the door closed. He would have to wait longer to speak with her.

Mr. Darcy's plans were again thwarted the next day when the return of rain put on hold any reasonable suggestion to call upon the Longbourn ladies. His only consolation was that Bingley looked as dejected as he felt at the thought of having to wait another day to see Miss Bennet and inquire after her health.

* * *

The next sunny day, the two gentlemen set off on horseback through Meryton with the intention of calling at Longbourn. Before they reached so far, Bingley spied Jane in the town, and Darcy quickly recognized Elizabeth talking with her sisters and a few young men. As they drew closer, Darcy could hardly believe his eyes as he recognized a most unwelcome member of the party- George Wickham. Mr. Bingley approached the group, but Darcy only stayed long enough to make eye contact with his nemesis. He turned to look at Elizabeth, who had clearly been conversing with him, and gave her a terse nod before turning away.

Darcy resisted the urge to gallop back to Netherfield and leave his friend in the dust. Wickham! What was he doing in Meryton? How, of all people, had he found Miss Elizabeth? And why was she smiling so much in her conversation with him?

Bingley eventually caught up with him and asked, "What was all that about back there, Darcy? You quite cut short my interchange with the lovely Miss Bennet."

"I am sorry, Charles," Darcy replied without further explanation. They rode on in silence for several more minutes.

"Is that it then?" asked Charles. "You have no further explanation?"

Darcy looked over at his friend. He certainly did not want to discuss Wickham, but he owed his host an explanation for his rude behavior. The wounds of the past summer still stung and not a day had gone by without Darcy thinking about the rotten George Wickham and the pain he caused his sister. Darcy fidgeted in his saddle, uncomfortable with how to begin the subject with his friend.

"That was Wickham," replied Darcy, trying first to see how much Bingley remembered of the man, though Charles had not spent much time with Wickham at Cambridge.

"Your father's steward's son? Here in Meryton?" Bingley asked. Darcy merely nodded in response, and Bingley continued, "I never knew much of him at school, but I did hear enough rumors to understand why you did not associate with him."

"Yes he was quite dissolute then and has not progressed much since. I know not what brings him here, but I am determined to find out." Darcy went on to relate their more recent dealings, starting with how Wickham had tried to reclaim the living he had previously forfeited. He continued with an explanation of what had transpired at Ramsgate, but remained vague as to the exact subject of Wickham's attentions. As much as he trusted Charles, he did not want to risk exposing his sister in any way to derision or scandal.

Bingley's good nature was troubled at the thought that anyone could behave in such a manner, but he was ready to believe his friend. He had heard of Wickham's gambling and profligate ways at Cambridge, but he could hardly believe anyone could maliciously attempt to elope with a young girl against her family's wishes. No wonder Darcy had been in such a dark mood since they reunited this fall at Netherfield.

Darcy was soon left alone with his thoughts as he extended his ride when Charles returned to the house. His real disappointment of the morning was not in seeing Wickham, but in his not meeting with Elizabeth. He was becoming desperate for the chance to speak with her. It had been several days since their night at Netherfield, and he felt uncomfortable with the length of time he had gone without making his declaration.

* * *

Elizabeth had spent the past few days cooped up with not only her thoughts about Mr. Darcy and the infamous night at Netherfield but also her odious cousin, Mr. Collins. Now that the rain had ended, a walk with her sisters to Meryton allowed her to escape the crowded house and her own thoughts, if not the cousin. Upon entering the village, her two youngest sisters quickly found the object of their journey, a young officer, Mr. Denny. An even greater pleasure was meeting his handsome friend, Mr. Wickham, who would soon be wearing regimentals himself.

Mr. Wickham was charming, attractive, and had a pleasant address, and he further recommended himself to Elizabeth with his happy readiness of conversation. The party was talking for several minutes, when the sound of horses drew their notice, and Darcy and Bingley were seen riding down the street.

Mr. Bingley addressed the group first, but quickly turned his attention to Miss Bennet. Elizabeth, determined to overcome her initial embarrassment at seeing him, turned to greet Mr. Darcy, but found him looking at Mr. Wickham. The two gentlemen upon seeing each other changed color, one looked white, the other red. Mr. Wickham, after a few moments, touched his hat- a salutation which Mr. Darcy just deigned to return. His eyes flashed quickly to Elizabeth, and she noticed his jaw clench. He gave her a slight nod before turning his horse away from the group. Mr. Bingley, noticing his friend leave, bid a hasty farewell and followed in the direction of Netherfield.

Elizabeth was curious at the exchange between the two men, but had no chance to explore the subject until later that evening when their party gathered again at her Aunt Phillips' home in Meryton. To Elizabeth's delight, Mr. Wickham had accepted an invitation to join for an evening of cards, but regrettably so had Mr. Collins. Though her cousin had a clear preference for remaining by her side, her aunt eventually pulled him away to the card tables leaving an opening next to Elizabeth. Mr. Wickham approached. Their conversation started with the recent rainy weather and an expression of fear of its being an overly rainy season, but Elizabeth's curiosity over his earlier exchange with Mr. Darcy was soon relieved when Mr. Wickham broached the subject himself. He asked how long Mr. Darcy had been in town, and Elizabeth satisfied him with an answer. Mr. Wickham then shared that he had been connected with the Darcy family since his youth.

At the astonished expression on her face, Wickham stated, "You may be surprised, given the cold manner of our greeting yesterday. – Are you much acquainted with Mr. Darcy?"

The question startled Elizabeth, far more than it should have had her acquaintance with Mr. Darcy not taken a strange turn. She prided herself on her control of emotion and speed in replying that she had spent four days at Netherfield with him. "But the whole neighborhood finds him very disagreeable," she added for good measure, hoping she would not betray any feeling that might raise suspicion. She could no longer lie to herself that she did not like the man. She had spent the last few days overcoming that feeling, but his motivations and actions still confused her along with her own thoughts of what had transpired that night.

Mr. Wickham seemed surprised at her declaration that he was not well liked, and implied that he often was accepted in society for his wealth and power despite his ill-tempered behavior. He then wondered aloud at how long Darcy might stay in the country.

"I heard nothing of his going away," replied Elizabeth, suddenly a bit concerned by the question herself. Mr. Darcy had said before he left her room at Netherfield that he wanted to talk with her, but several days had now gone by, and no conversation had taken place. A gentleman such as himself might be a man of leisure, but he still had business to attend to at his estate and in town. How long would he stay, and would they have a chance to talk before he left? What would they even discuss? She knew she should be demanding a marriage proposal, yet their liaison was not a foundation on which she imagined forming a marriage of love and respect.

Mr. Wickham recalled her attention as he continued, "Mr. Darcy's behavior toward myself has been scandalous, but I believe I could forgive him anything and everything, rather than his disappointing the hopes and disgracing the memory of his father," continued Wickham. Despite their contentious history, he went on to declare that Mr. Darcy could not chase him out of town, even though he had been very ill-used.

Elizabeth's curiosity was piqued at the mention of Mr. Darcy's scandalous behavior, but Mr. Wickham seemed to have sensed that he ventured too far in his censure of the man and began to speak more generally of the neighborhood, the society, and expressing his pleasure with it all. He went on jovially for a few more minutes about his love for company before he stated that the church was supposed to be his profession, were it not for the gentleman they were just speaking of.

Fortunately, Mr. Wickham needed little persuasion to continue with his story of how the late Mr. Darcy, his godfather, had bequeathed him a generous living, but the young Mr. Darcy had denied it to him on its vacancy. When Elizabeth questioned why, Wickham surmised, "I have a warm, unguarded temper, and I may perhaps have sometimes spoken of my opinion of him, and to him, too freely, especially regarding some matters. But the fact is we are very different sort of men, and that he hates me."

"I had not thought Mr. Darcy so bad as this," replied Elizabeth, torn at the thought that the man who had touched her so tenderly could treat another with such open distain. "Though I do remember him boasting of the implacability of his resentment and unforgiving temper."

Elizabeth began to weigh her experience with Mr. Darcy and this new perspective that Mr. Wickham introduced. Certainly, she had not liked Mr. Darcy upon his arrival in Meryton and found his behavior arrogant and demeaning to those around him. If their night at Netherfield had not happened, she would have still felt the same way, and Mr. Wickham's story surely would have solidified her own negative opinion of him. When she thought of the moments they had together in the library and bed at Netherfield though, she could not reconcile the tenderness of his affection with the brutal treatment of the congenial Mr. Wickham. She began to wonder if Mr. Darcy truly had an unscrupulous character, if she should feel used by a proud, arrogant man who bent everything, including her, to his will. She had thought about his words, "We shall have to talk," for several days now. Was he simply hoping to agree upon a story to cover up their encounter? Was the reason for his distance since that night simply that he no longer feared repercussion since they had not been caught?

Elizabeth realized she had been silent for too long, and asked about what kind of brother Mr. Darcy was to his sister. Mr. Wickham replied that his former friend's pride would not let him be anything other than attentive and generous with her, but that that had led to an overindulgence that made her into a proud young woman, too good for anyone she thought was below her station.

"But I cannot reconcile how his sister and his friends cannot know who he truly is," reasoned Elizabeth, frustrated with the conflicting accounts of his character. "Mr. Bingley is the kindest, most amiable man of my acquaintance. How can they suit each other?"

"Mr. Darcy can please where he chooses. He is a very different man amongst those whom he considers his equals compared to how he treats those beyond his preferred circles. His propensity to be generous to his servants stems from a need to seem generous amongst his peers, but his treatment of those not of his station is demeaning and degrading. If he does not consider someone worthy, he does not treat them with respect, even if their character or decency should demand it."

This declaration certainly gave Elizabeth pause to consider the biggest question of her interaction with Mr. Darcy. Did his attention to her stem from admiration or from an opinion of her so low that he thought she would accept, maybe even appreciate, being approached in such a manner?

A silence fell between the two, and attempts at other subjects were made, but nothing could distract her from her musings about Mr. Darcy's character. Their silence was intruded upon by her cousin who was speaking loudly of the great estate of Rosings and the esteemed Lady Catherine de Bourgh. This caught Mr. Wickham's attention, and he shared his knowledge of the connection between the great patroness and Mr. Darcy, her nephew.

"Her daughter will have a very large fortune, and it is believed that she and her cousin will unite the two estates," Mr. Wickham stated. This information made Elizabeth start.

"Mr. Darcy is engaged?" she asked incredulously.

"I know of no formal announcement, but it is widely known amongst the family and their closest acquaintances that such an attachment exists," Wickham replied, a bit taken aback by her animated response.

Elizabeth felt her breath catch in her throat. Here was her answer. If Mr. Darcy was promised to his cousin, then she was but a plaything, nothing, to him. He had indeed used her and had no honorable intentions. She felt betrayed and sick with the thought that she had been complicit in allowing his attentions. Poor Miss de Bourgh, to have a fiancée so unfaithful and dissolute. Her disappointment surprised her. One night should not have changed her poor opinion of Mr. Darcy, but when she thought about the tender kisses he placed upon her brow before she fell asleep, she acknowledged that her heart had indeed softened towards him.

Elizabeth looked over at the handsome, charming Mr. Wickham and realized they were allies by way of mistreatment by Mr. Darcy. This private knowledge raised her esteem of him. She could certainly never share details of her own experience being ill-used by Mr. Darcy, but she thought that Mr. Wickham might sympathize with her position better than anyone else.

"Are you well, Miss Elizabeth?" Mr. Wickham inquired noticing her altered state.

"Yes, I'm sorry, just a sudden headache," she lied. "I must find my sister," Elizabeth excused herself and sought Jane. Within a few minutes, the Bennet girls and their cousin departed for Longbourn. Jane was truly worried for her sister, while her youngest sisters protested that their night was cut short the whole way home, but Elizabeth simply leaned her head against the side of the carriage, hoping her closed eyes could hold back an onslaught of tears.

* * *

The next day, Mr. Bingley visited Netherfield accompanied by his sisters and Mr. Darcy to deliver the invitation to the ball for Tuesday. Elizabeth remained in bed and feigned illness during their visit. Kitty came up to ask if she truly felt ill, implying that their mother wanted her to come below as Mr. Darcy had specifically asked after her. Elizabeth, not wanting to think what mountain her mother had built out of that simple inquiry, replied that she was indeed too ill and that she would not attend the guests down stairs. Elizabeth sat in the window seat and eventually saw them exit the house. Mr. Darcy turned back and looked up to the second floor at her window, but Elizabeth was uncertain if he could see her there. He looked down and seemed to shake his head before getting in the carriage, and Elizabeth felt a tear escape and roll down her cheek as they pulled away.

Later that evening, Elizabeth ventured down for dinner and listened to her family talk about their exciting day. Jane was beaming from her short encounter with Mr. Bingley, her mother was loudly predicting upcoming nuptials, and her cousin was espousing drivel about Lady Catherine. He had been out with her father during the visit and was highly disappointed to have missed the chance to meet his esteemed patroness's nephew himself. Elizabeth's mother, however, caught her attention with her remark, "Mr. Darcy was more attentive than I have seen him in the past, and he enquired specifically after you, Lizzy. What do you make of that?"

Elizabeth hoped the color did not show in her cheeks, but she continued to stare down at her plate regardless. "We spent several days together at Netherfield, Mama. I'm sure he was just being courteous," she replied.

Darcy's inquiry after her second daughter had surprised Mrs. Bennet, but she could not quite believe that such a man would truly be interested in Lizzy, who was no great beauty. Besides, she had other hopes for her second daughter that had to do with solving the problem of the entail and so changed the subject. "How wonderful to have a ball at Netherfield and so soon! Jane, you must make the most of your first two dances with Mr. Bingley, and girls, the rest of you should try to get dances with him as well so he cannot dance with any other young ladies!"

Elizabeth's stomach turned at the thought of the ball and seeing Mr. Darcy again. "I am not certain I am up for a ball," replied Elizabeth. "Perhaps I will remain behind."

Her mother looked aghast. Her worried gaze turned to Mr. Collins and upon witnessing the disappointment on his face, she replied, "Nonsense Lizzy! When have you ever shirked a ball? It is not until next week, and you will feel much better by that time! Besides, I think you would be sorely missed if you did not attend."

"Indeed, my fair cousin," interjected Mr. Collins. "I should like to take this opportunity of soliciting your hand for the two first dances especially," he said with a confident grin overtaking his face.

She looked briefly at her mother who certainly would have kicked her under the table had they been seated close enough. Elizabeth sighed and accepted her cousin's proposal with as much grace as she could muster. There was no escaping this ball, a prospect made even more disagreeable now by the thought of two whole dances with her horrible cousin. She could not help finding her situation humorous when comparing Mr. Collins' attentions with Mr. Darcy's. She only prayed that the Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday would pass slowly and give her enough time to build the courage to face that gentleman again. The only bright spot in the whole affair was the hope of furthering her acquaintance with the charming Mr. Wickham.


	4. Chapter 4

Till Elizabeth entered the drawing-room at Netherfield and looked in vain for Mr. Wickham among the cluster of red coats there assembled, a doubt of his being present had never occurred to her. Her youngest sister applied to Mr. Denny for an explanation, and the young man told them that Mr. Wickham had returned to town for urgent business. He added that he did not imagine the business would have called him away so urgently if he had not wished to avoid a certain gentleman. Denny nodded toward the doorway, and Elizabeth turned to see Mr. Darcy standing there and looking at her. She nervously turned away from him back to her small group, hoping the warmth in her cheeks did not show as an obvious blush. The conversation carried on by the others was lost on her, and her attentions were not reclaimed until her cousin approached her for their set.

Mr. Collins proved a miserable dance partner, often stepping wrongly and apologizing constantly. At a turn in the sequence, Elizabeth again met Mr. Darcy's eyes from across the room. With a flutter in her chest, she quickly looked away and avoided glancing toward that corner during the rest of the dance. When she was finally released, she noticed Mr. Darcy approaching, but she turned to an officer near her and was able to secure the next dance. Elizabeth witnessed Mr. Darcy's annoyed expression at her having escaped him.

Her dance with the officer was more pleasant in execution, but every turn brought her face to face with Mr. Darcy, who stood by the perimeter of the movement, his gaze never venturing from her. After the music stopped, she was in a position to exit the floor opposite him and moved toward her friend, Charlotte Lucas. She hoped that by engrossing in conversation with her, Mr. Darcy would keep his distance, but she soon found herself addressed by him. He took her so much by surprise in his application for her hand, that, without knowing what she did, she accepted him.

The dancing recommenced then, and he extended his hand to escort her to the floor. Elizabeth eyed him warily, but when she slipped her hand into his, she felt a heat exuding from his palm and a shock run up her arm. He seemed tense, and she was unsure of her own feelings. She had certainly hoped to avoid him tonight, but whether it was out of anger or embarrassment, she could not decide.

They stood for some time without speaking a word, but Elizabeth was not unaffected by his touch. One intimacy of the dance brought his hand to her lower back as they promenaded, and their frequent handholding still sent her stomach aflutter. Determined not to let her emotions show, she reminded herself over and over in her head that he was promised to his cousin and that she still did not even know his true opinion of her.

The thought that they might make it through two dances without a word spoken crossed her mind when he made some observation about the dance, and she replied with a remark on the number of couples. After another pause of some minutes, the sequence brought them to the end of the line away from most of the crowd, and they turned toward each other.

"Miss Elizabeth, we must talk," Mr. Darcy stated in a low, quiet voice.

"Must we?" she rejoined, looking archly at him. "I cannot think of two people who have less to say for themselves."

"You are angry with me."

She remained silent as their formation with another couple brought them apart.

"This is hardly talk for a ballroom dance, Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth eventually supplied as they returned in step together.

"Then where and when might we speak?" he asked. "I did not find you in your own home when I called. I can only seem to stumble across you in Meryton, and then there was little opportunity."

"You did not stay long enough in Meryton to join our conversation," she said as she noticed his complexion darken. "When you met us there we had just been forming a new acquaintance."

"Mr. Wickham is blessed with such happy manners as may ensure his making friends- whether he may be equally capable of retaining them, is less certain."

"He has been so unlucky as to lose your friendship and in a manner which he is likely to suffer from all his life," replied Elizabeth.

It was worse than Darcy initially imagined. He thought her distance of this evening was due to his delay in speaking to her, but it appeared that Wickham had also insinuated himself.

Elizabeth continued, "I remember you once saying that your good opinion once lost was lost forever. Are you careful in forming those opinions?"

"I am."

"And never allow yourself to be blinded by prejudice?"

"I hope not," he replied with a firm voice wondering at the direction of her speech. "May I ask to what these questions tend?"

"Merely to the illustration of your character," she said, endeavoring to speak with more levity. "I am trying to make it out and determine your opinion."

"In regards to Mr. Wickham or toward yourself? I readily believe that your performance in sketching my character at the present moment would do no credit to either of us."

"But if I do not take your likeness now, I may never have another opportunity. We have now been in company twice since the first time you said we needed to talk, yet nothing of substance has been said. I cannot imagine how I might sketch your character based on conversations that may never happen, so I must use what little information I have."

The dance came to an end and each applauded politely for the musicians and other dancers. Mr. Darcy escorted Elizabeth from the floor. She made to remove her arm but instead found him firmly guiding her toward the doors to the terrace. Mr. Darcy was relieved to find it unoccupied, and breathed easier knowing that they might now have a few minutes to discuss what had transpired the previous week at Netherfield and apparently whatever lies Wickham had espoused.

"Is it wise for us to be out here alone, Mr. Darcy?" Elizabeth asked stiffly, "I would not want rumors to inconvenience you in any way."

Darcy eyed her warily, trying to read where her present hostility was truly stemming from. When he had come to her room in Netherfield, she was embarrassed by their actions, but welcoming of his attention. Now she seemed distant and cold. He had not expected this reaction, though he hardly knew what he should have thought. The fact that she had not come down to see him at Longbourn was a hint at her feelings, but seeing her apparent anger in full force surprised him.

"Elizabeth, surely you must know that I have tried to speak with you sooner regarding that night… but between the rain and your feeling ill the day I did come to Longbourn, could I have said anything sooner?" he implored.

Elizabeth, a little jarred by his intimate use of her name, replied, "And what would you have said to me, Mr. Darcy? There is no one aware of what has transpired. No one to call you out or besmirch my character. What can there be left to discuss other than assurances of my secrecy? Do not worry, I will say nothing of what transpired between us; your engagement faces no threat from me."

"Engagement?" Darcy inquired, but before he could continue, the door to the terrace opened. Miss Bingley approached them exclaiming how she had been looking all over for Mr. Darcy as dinner was starting and he had promised to escort her to the dining room. She cast a glare at Elizabeth as she took Darcy's arm. "Miss Eliza! I hear from your sister you are quite enchanted with Mr. Wickham! Did he not tell you he was the son of the late Mr. Darcy's steward? He has treated the family in a most infamous manner, though Mr. Darcy is not the least to blame!" She smiled up at him, oblivious to the angry look upon his face. "I pity you for the discovery of your favorite's guilt, but considering his descent, one could not expect much better. Mr. Darcy, is that not correct?"

Elizabeth did not await his reply before responding that she was aware of his descent from Mr. Wickham's own telling, but would not align on the implication of this guilt and descent being of the same matter. Mr. Darcy looked as though he wished to interject, but she had heard enough to know she would receive no satisfactory reply. She left the couple on the terrace and found her family entering the dining room.

The evening continued to spiral downward. All throughout dinner, her mother spoke gregariously and within earshot of Mr. Darcy of the fortunate alliance her Jane was about to make with Mr. Bingley. Elizabeth tried to quiet her mother, noticing Mr. Darcy's attitude tense with every loud proclamation of excitement from Mrs. Bennet. Her younger sisters flirted loudly with every officer in sight. Mary led an inappropriately long set on the pianoforte before her father stepped in to publically ask her to stop. Mr. Collins even interrupted Mr. Darcy's dinner to introduce himself as Lady Catherine's parson and cousin to the charming Bennet family, and Mr. Darcy's cold reception did not even properly embarrass him. The only bright spot of the evening seemed to be Mr. Bingley's attentions to Jane and her sister's warm but quiet reception of them.

After dinner, Elizabeth refused Mr. Collins' application for another dance, and as he declared his intention to remain by her side, it eliminated the possibility of other dance partners. Mr. Darcy also lurked a very short distance from her but remained quiet and distant in his air. Charlotte Lucas managed to engage Mr. Collins's attention for a brief moment, and Elizabeth took the opportunity to slip away, noting that she would certainly owe her friend a long apology the next day. She managed to escape the ballroom relatively unnoticed, and turned down the hall to avoid the crowd. She slipped into the library and leant against the section of the bookcase where Mr. Darcy had first approached her, trying to sort out her thoughts and feelings in that regard. She had seen her family act with little regard for decorum before, and she feared that the only reason it now embarrassed her so fully was that she cared about Mr. Darcy's opinion of them and of her.

As if conjured from her own thoughts, Mr. Darcy entered the library and, as he expected, found her there leaned up against the shelves. Her arms were crossed, and she looked more exhausted than surprised to see him. He closed the door behind him and approached her. Standing in front of her, he lifted her chin to make her look at him. The doubt and uncertainty there caused him pain, but he longed to understand it.

Elizabeth felt Mr. Darcy's warm hand on her jawline, and cursed herself for feeling pleasure at his touch. She moved away from him and toward the window. "What do you want from me?" she questioned. "Have you followed me here for more intimacies? I am done being your plaything."

"Plaything?" his voice rose defensively at such an accusation. "I have nothing but noble intentions toward you, Elizabeth! How could you doubt such a thing?"

"But you are engaged to your cousin!" she replied, also raising her voice. He exhaled sharply and shook his head in disbelief.

"Did your own cousin who follows you around like a puppy dog tell you that? I shall have to have a word with my aunt that her parson is a spreader of false gossip about our family."

"It was not my cousin, but Mr. Wickham," she returned curtly. "He said you were intended for your cousin to unite the great estates of Pemberley and Rosings."

Darcy clenched his fists in anger. "I am not engaged, and I would caution you to think twice about anything that man tells you. Elizabeth, if you are in any doubt as to my intentions, you must know that I intend to behave honorably toward you. We must marry."

Elizabeth was astonished into silence at his proclamation. He continued on about his struggle with his duty to his position and his duty to her given his actions. He spoke of his growing attraction for her, but there were feelings besides those to be detailed, and he was not more eloquent on the subject of tenderness than of pride. His sense of her inferiority- of its being a degradation- of the family obstacles which judgment had always opposed to inclination, were dwelt on with warmth which seemed due to the consequence he was wounding. He continued on in such a manner for several minutes.

Elizabeth felt the sting of his words as they echoed her previous fears of his initial decision to approach her based on his low opinion of her lesser position. The only thing that surprised her was that he felt it within his duty to actually propose marriage. She interrupted him as his speech was winding down and stated, "Mr. Darcy, as I previously said, you need not feel an obligation to me. Consider your duty fulfilled in offering your hand in marriage, but I am not of the opinion that we must marry."

He waited for her to continue, but when she did not, he asked if that was all the reply he was to receive.

"You told me you liked me against your will, against your reason, and even against your character! Am I to enter into a marriage without respect? From the earliest moments of our acquaintance you have given me every reason to dislike you. Despite my weakness at your attentions, my feelings toward you, though not indifferent, have been unimpressed by your pride and mistreatment of those you think of as beneath you. Your opinion of me was clearly so low to approach me in such an ungentlemanly manner, and my doubt of your character was further solidified by your mistreatment of Mr. Wickham."

"What lies did Mr. Wickham tell you exactly?" Mr. Darcy replied with in a tone not dissimilar from a growl.

As Elizabeth repeated Mr. Wickham's account, Mr. Darcy shook his head and paced the room in disbelief. When she concluded, he replied, "And this is your opinion of me! This is the estimation in which you hold me. A story from a man you hardly know and throwing against me my own feelings because they did not flatter you. Did you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your connections? To congratulate myself on the hope of relations so decidedly beneath my own?"

Elizabeth replied with composure, "You are mistaken, Mr. Darcy, if you suppose that the mode of your declaration affected me in any other way than as it spared me the concern which I might have felt in refusing you, had you behaved in a more gentleman-like manner."

A soft knock came at the door. Elizabeth started looking nervously at Mr. Darcy. If they were caught alone together now, it would certainly lead to scandal, and after her blunt refusal of him, she feared forcing them both into an unhappy situation. He approached the door, and found his man, Carson, behind it.

"I apologize for interrupting you, sir, but a letter just arrived by express," Carson stated.

"Thank you, Carson," replied his master, somewhat confused as to how his man found him. "How did you know I was in here?"

"A good valet has his means of learning where his master is," replied Carson with a slight bow. "And has a knack for protecting his privacy, I assure you." Darcy, who had held the door so that Elizabeth could not be seen from the hall, looked briefly over at her before thanking Carson, "I will read my letter in here, please see to it that no one enters." Carson nodded and left.

Darcy closed the door and turned away from Elizabeth as he tore open the letter. He recognized his sister's hand. After a few moments, he let out an exclamation, and pounded his fist against the mantle. Elizabeth started at his outburst, unsure of how she could leave now without being seen given his attendant was likely standing outside the door. Mr. Darcy moved toward her, handing out the letter.

"Here is a testimony to you favorite's character," Darcy said thrusting the letter into her hands. She picked it up and read curiously.

 _Dearest William,_

 _I am sorry to disrupt your stay with Mr. Bingley, but I must alert you to what has transpired. As I walked out this morning with Mrs. A- we were approached by none other than George Wickham. He took me by surprise, and could not make a scene in public, but I am now afraid to go out for meeting him. He talked of continued feelings for me to the point where Mrs. A- became uncomfortable. I do not know what to do or how to react. Just as I was recovering from the trauma of this summer and my foolish actions, he has returned me to turmoil. If you cannot come back quickly, please let me join you in Hertfordshire where I know I can be away from him and safe with you. Please respond quickly, dear brother, for I do not intend to leave the house until I know I will not meet him again._

 _Yours,_

 _Georgiana_

"What does this mean?" inquired Elizabeth, confused by the thought that the charming Mr. Wickham had upset the younger sister of Mr. Darcy with his attentions.

Mr. Darcy then related his side of his dealings with Mr. Wickham, elaborating on the specific details of the living being rejected by Wickham as well as his attempted elopement with his sister the past summer. "She was then but 15 years old," he concluded to a stunned Elizabeth. "I am sorry to disabuse you of your opinion of him, but he is not to be trusted."

Elizabeth sat in silence, having retired to the settee during his speech as her shock grew during the story.

"I am shocked, stunned," was all she could manage to reply. A doubt of its being true could not hold up to the honesty of detail that Mr. Darcy had provided, especially in regards to his own sister.

Mr. Darcy approached but remained standing before her. "Truly, Miss Elizabeth, I would have stayed here to argue the necessity of marriage between us, but as such an event has arisen, I must leave immediately for London to secure my sister's safety. I ask you once more, will you not consider my proposal? I understand there are differences of opinion to work though, but perhaps my version of dealings with Mr. Wickham may have assuaged some of those doubts. The others we can discuss, but I feel an obligation given my actions to ensure we marry."

She looked up at him, seeing a look of desperation there. For a moment, she considered it. He had been kind in their interactions, and perhaps she might be as happy as any woman finds herself in the marriage state. But recollections of his pride and his opinion of her family intruded. Would he simply carry her away to Pemberley and never associate with a Bennet again? She could not imagine finding happiness in such an arrangement.

He knelt before her to bring his face even with hers. "I noticed your cousin's attentions to you. Do you see yourself as obligated to him?"

"I am not obligated to my cousin in any way, and would never enter into any arrangement where I cannot respect my partner and he cannot respect me. My family's situation with the entail does not factor into my decision regarding you," replied Elizabeth defensively.

"Does your family agree with your intention to deny your cousin?" asked Mr. Darcy, trying to regulate his offense.

"He has not made any offer, so the issue has not presented itself."

"The situation _will_ arise, and I fear that you will be forced into a situation most unpalatable to you," Mr. Darcy continued. He began to reach out as if to take her hand, but then paused and moved it away as he thought better of it.

"My family would not force me into any such arrangement, and I have given him no sort of encouragement," Elizabeth replied quietly.

"Ladies have been forced into marriage for far less advantage than an entailment, despite their feelings on the matter."

Elizabeth glared back at him, again taking offense at his estimation of her family's motives.

"Thank you for setting right my misconceptions about Mr. Wickham," she replied after a small pause. "But as long as I can leave this room tonight without the taint of scandal, I find it unnecessary to pursue marriage. Given your previous sentiments, congratulate yourself on your escape from such connections and do not feel as though you have wounded me in any other way."

He rose, and with a curt bow and a meek "God bless you," he left. She overheard him tell his man to ready his things, and then he was gone. She waited another ten minutes before venturing to the hallway. Upon seeing it empty, she returned to the ballroom. When her cousin approached her to ask where she had disappeared to, she merely replied that she had sought some fresh air, and he was satisfied with her reply.


	5. Chapter 5

Elizabeth looked up at the parsonage as the carriage pulled to a stop. It was a quaint home that appeared happily situated amongst fresh spring gardens, but that had little effect on her sense of dread. She had been anxious about this day for so long now, but inevitably, it had come. Taking a deep, calming breath, she stepped out aided by the footman.

"Elizabeth!" exclaimed Charlotte running from the front door. Her friend brought her into a tight embrace. "I am so happy that you came," she continued, stepping back to look her friend in the face. "I feared you would change your mind."

"Hello, Charlotte," Elizabeth replied warmly. "I must confess I have missed my dearest friend so much that even if you had not invited me, I would have found a way to come see you anyway!" The two friends laughed and embraced again before Charlotte continued, "It must have been a long winter for you with Jane away as well. How is she enjoying London?"

Elizabeth made a polite reply, but did not dwell on the question of Jane's happiness. As Charlotte turned to greet her father and sister, Elizabeth was accosted by Mr. Collins with raptures about his new-found wedded bliss. She detected some hint of gloating over their marital happiness, as though Mr. Collins was trying to show her what she had forfeited with her rejection of his proposal. All throughout their tour of the house, he spoke of every tiny advantage of their situation and every attention from Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Elizabeth thought the new Mrs. Collins handled her new husband quite well, and to her credit, Charlotte only blushed once with embarrassment at his officious remarks.

Elizabeth had some time before dinner to unpack her things, though how she would fit everything in a closet with shelves was a mystery to her. She entered her room, and after closing the door behind her leaned up against it, letting out a long exhale. She had not been entirely truthful with Charlotte; she had almost cancelled her visit. Were it not for a desperate letter from her friend begging her to come and the second advantage of having a chance to see Jane in London, Elizabeth might have found an excuse to remain at Longbourn. She moved over to the bed, laying back and thinking about all that had transpired in the past few months. Two proposals in two days, the desertion of Netherfield, the surprise marriage of her closest friend and cousin, and Jane's departure to London had bought a wave of upheaval and loneliness to Elizabeth at Longbourn.

The morning after the Netherfield ball, Elizabeth had been shocked to witness Mr. Darcy's prediction come true so quickly. Mr. Collins proposed, and despite being refused twice by Elizabeth, would not relent until her father set him straight. _At least in that Mr. Darcy had been wrong,_ Elizabeth thought to herself, for her father had fully supported her rejection of their foolish cousin, even if her mother had not.

Despite his failure to secure Elizabeth's hand, Mr. Collins clung to the hope of returning to Kent an engaged man, and just a few days later was betrothed to her best friend. Though Elizabeth was initially shocked and dismayed at Charlotte's choice, she now acknowledged the prudence of her friend's actions, if not the sensibility of it.

Elizabeth's mind flashed back to her night at Netherfield with Mr. Darcy, and she felt a now familiar flutter between her legs as she remembered his touch. She wondered briefly if her friend experienced any such intimacies with Mr. Collins. Elizabeth thought the chances unlikely and shuttered at the thought.

Besides Mr. Collins and Charlotte's engagement and marriage, much else had transpired in a short time after the Netherfield ball. A day or two later, Mr. Wickham had returned to town sporting a black eye. He waved it off as a trivial misunderstanding, but Elizabeth had other suspicions as to its origin. The charming lieutenant did not try to re-insinuate himself with Elizabeth, and she wondered if it was her cold response to him upon his return or a warning from another quarter. He contented himself to entertaining her two youngest sisters, spreading rumors around town about Mr. Darcy's character, and eventually bestowing his charm and attentions on a Miss King, who recently inherited ten thousand pounds. Elizabeth was able to quell the worst of Mr. Wickham's stories amongst her neighbors by questioning the veracity of the accusations, but the general dislike of Mr. Darcy gave little effect to her efforts.

Within a few days of the ball, Netherfield Park closed for the season. Mr. Bingley had followed his friend to town the next morning, and his sisters left shortly after. They sent Jane a disappointing letter explaining that their departure was likely to be a permanent one and expressing their hope that their brother would soon be united with the young Georgiana Darcy. Elizabeth thought this merely a ploy by Caroline to detach her brother from Jane, but her eldest sister disagreed and fell into a state of dejection. Elizabeth had hoped that going to London after Christmas would throw Jane into their company again, but her last letter had indicated that all hope there was lost. Caroline and Louisa had indeed returned a visit in Gracechurch Street, but had since seemed to throw off all connection.

In the absence of good company, Elizabeth had spent an inordinate amount of time thinking about her brief encounter with Mr. Darcy. From the scintillating night at Netherfield to his unexpected, though arrogant, proposal, Elizabeth's feelings toward the man had varied from anger and hate to a softer tenderness. She was not blind to the compliment of obtaining a proposal from a man of his station. Even though she was a gentleman's daughter, Mr. Darcy's position, connections, and wealth were impressive enough to make it difficult to imagine him ever paying her, with a mere £50 per annum, any romantic attention. She gradually, if somewhat painfully, came to the conclusion that he must have intended to make her an offer from his first approaching her. His tenderness, desire to speak with her, and honor would have forbid him to act otherwise; she knew that now, and only felt the shame in having abused his character so fully to his face. She regretted her naïve favor of Mr. Wickham, and hated even more that she had used his lies in her refusal of Mr. Darcy. Even still, she could not quite fully regret turning down his proposal given his attitude toward her family. There, at least, she knew she was in the right.

Elizabeth's first two weeks in Kent passed as she might have expected. Parsonage life was quiet apart from the fervor in the times leading up to their engagements at Rosings when Mr. Collins would begin to fret over the visit a whole day in advance of their invitation. Otherwise, Mrs. Collins frequently encouraged her husband to work in his garden or attend members of his parish so that Charlotte and her guests were rarely in his company outside of dinner time. The party was invited to dine at Rosings twice a week. Elizabeth found Lady Catherine officious, interfering, and condescending but was able to gain amusement in studying such a character. Her attention to every subject led to a dictation of orders, and Elizabeth could hardly suppress her laughter as Mr. Collins sought to attend to every wish of his patroness. Her friend's patience with such a husband and neighbor was admirable, and Elizabeth knew that if she had been forced into such an arrangement, she would not have borne the situation with such grace.

The week before Easter, Elizabeth was shocked to discover that Mr. Darcy had arrived at Rosings. Mr. Collins went the very morning of his arrival to pay his respects. To everyone's astonishment, the parson returned from his visit accompanied by Mr. Darcy and another man in uniform. Charlotte spied them returning from her window and rushed to alert her sister and friend, adding, "I may thank you, Eliza, for this piece of civility. Mr. Darcy would never have come so soon to wait upon me."

Elizabeth had scarcely time to disclaim the compliment before the party entered the room. She felt the color rise in her cheeks and her breath catch in her chest as Mr. Darcy looked at her and gave a polite bow. He introduced his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, who though not a handsome man was perfectly jovial and friendly. He carried most of the conversation with the ladies and even Mr. Collins, while Mr. Darcy sat for some time without speaking to anybody. At a moment when the colonel was mostly engaged with Mrs. Collins, Mr. Darcy turned to Elizabeth and inquired after the health of her family. She answered him in the usual way, and after a moment's pause added, "My eldest sister has been in town these three months. Have you never happened to see her there?" He answered that he had not, but the subject was pursued no further. After some more moments of silence Elizabeth ventured, "Mr. Wickham returned to town shortly after you left." She noticed Mr. Darcy shifted slightly in his seat and became quite distracted with his signet ring. "He was sporting quite a souvenir from his trip to London."

Mr. Darcy lightly rubbed the knuckles on his right hand with his fingers before he replied, "An impetuous move no doubt by someone in no condition for a mature confrontation."

"Given what I now know of his history, it was no doubt well-earned and clearly effective." She offered a small smile hoping to communicate her understanding and perhaps show that she was at least apologetic for her initial misjudgment of Mr. Wickham.

"Only time will tell," was his somber reply. He continued to sit in silence, clearly pained by the direction the conversation had taken. Though it was a small attempt at an apology for her former mistake about Mr. Wickham, Elizabeth regretted bringing him up. The subject was pursued no further, and the gentlemen soon afterwards went away.

Over the next few days, the Colonel called several times at the parsonage, but he was unaccompanied by his cousin. Though Elizabeth found his conversation pleasing, she could not help missing the company of Mr. Darcy. Since his arrival, she had trouble sleeping, lying awake in her bed thinking about how close he was again. She tried once touching herself as he had caressed her. Though she found some pleasure in it, she could not replicate that intense feeling she experienced with him that night. On her morning walks, she soon realized that she hoped more and more to encounter him, and each day she was more disappointed upon her return to the parsonage.

* * *

"Excuse me aunt, I believe I misheard you," Mr. Darcy snapped to attention during dinner on his first night at Rosings. " _Who_ did you say was at the parsonage?" His heart had jumped as he heard "Collins" and "Elizabeth" mentioned in the same sentence. He had wondered at her cousin's interest in her all those months ago, but hoped that his lack of hearing of an announcement indicated that nothing had come of it. He could not bring himself to inquire after the situation before he came to Rosings, and had dreaded finding her here, married to that odious man.

"Mr. Collins' new wife's family is visiting along with a friend." Replied his aunt impatiently. "Really William, do pay attention."

"I heard the name Elizabeth… is that Mr. Collin's new wife?" His fists clenched under the table as he fought to maintain his composure.

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet is visiting her friend Mrs. Charlotte Collins," clarified Lady Catherine. "I find her a pretty girl, but quite impertinent."

Mr. Darcy suppressed a small smile. She was safe. And apparently had no qualms being herself around his aunt.

"I must meet this pretty, impertinent girl, Darcy. Let us call on her tomorrow," interjected his cousin Richard.

"You may go, but I do not see the need to call there," Darcy replied, trying not to sound too defensive. How could he possibly face her after their last exchange? The things he had said about her family were reprehensible. She had been wrong about Wickham, but he had been a fool to think that dwelling on her lack of connections and family impropriety as obstacles to his love would be a successful tactic. In trying to show the vehemence of his love, willing to overcome all, he had instead belittled and insulted her.

"You very well know I cannot go over without an introduction." He added under his breath, "And you know I could not possibly be content with only the company here. I know the parson is a dolt, but a new wife, her sister, and her friend would be a nice diversion while we are here."

Darcy did not push the point, as he did not want to make a scene in front of his aunt. Luckily for his cousin, the next morning brought a visit from the ready to please Mr. Collins, to whom Richard volunteered them both to accompany back to the parsonage.

Darcy felt his stomach knot as he entered the sitting room. Elizabeth looked at him briefly before curtseying and turning her attentions to his cousin. At least she blushed, he thought to himself, noticing her rosy complexion and hoping it meant she might feel as affected by his presence as he was by hers. They spoke little when he inquired of her family, and he did not elaborate on his knowledge of her sister's being in town. Elizabeth tried to engage him further with conversation about Wickham, but he cringed at the memory of his last encounter with his former childhood friend. Not wanting to explore this subject further with Elizabeth, he chose to stay silent the rest of the visit and was relieved when they left. The whole walk back to the main house, Richard carried on about the lovely company at the parsonage, but he could not get Darcy to agree to accompany him on visits the next few mornings. He would rather not torture himself in that way.

* * *

A few evenings later, his aunt surprised him by announcing they were to have the parsonage guests over to dine. Darcy knew he was fussing over his appearance far more than normal, but Carson was patient with him, even tying a new knot for his cravat. He walked downstairs and paced anxiously as they awaited the Collins' arrival. Perhaps she would not come. Perhaps she might feign illness to avoid his company. He did not know if he longed for her presence or feared it until the moment came when she entered the room with her friend and cousin and he felt relief wash over him.

Dinner passed uneventfully. Darcy and Elizabeth were seated next to each other, and at one point their hands brushed as they both reached out for another piece of bread. Elizabeth tried not to look affected as her hand retreated, and Darcy took the basket and offered for her to take a piece first. She thanked him quietly and returned to her conversation with Mrs. Collins. Richard was engaging the young Miss Lucas in conversation, leaving Darcy only Anne and his aunt. He stayed silent and looked down at his plate.

After dinner, the party gathered in the drawing room, and Richard yet again monopolized Miss Elizabeth's time. Darcy, forced to sit by his aunt and listen to her litany of complaints, could not help watching Richard engaging Elizabeth and making her laugh so charmingly. His cousin had such an ease with conversation that Darcy often found himself quite envious. Richard soon begged her to play for them, and after some persuasion, she accepted. He offered to turn her pages, and Darcy swiftly joined them at the pianoforte, abruptly abandoning his aunt's attempts at fostering conversation between himself and Anne.

Elizabeth could feel Mr. Darcy's presence as he approached from behind, and as he stood over her, she forced an arch smile and said, "You mean to frighten me, Mr. Darcy, by coming in all this state to hear me?"

He replied, "You could not really believe me to entertain any design of alarming you."

Her eyes shifted from watching her fingers dance over the keys to meet his gaze. He looked a little hurt at her jest. "Well you know my enjoyment of professing opinions that are not truly my own." She smiled genuinely, hoping to lighten their banter. His demeanor brightened and he smiled slightly.

"I shall not dare disagree with you on that point," he replied carrying on their jest.

Elizabeth laughed heartily at this picture of herself, and said to Colonel Fitzwilliam, "Your cousin will give you a very pretty notion of me, and teach you not to believe a word I say. It is provoking me to retaliate, and such things may come out as will shock your relations to hear."

"Pray let me hear what you have to accuse him of," cried Colonel Fitzwilliam. "I should like to know how he behaves among strangers."

Both Elizabeth and Darcy blushed, thinking about how they had both behaved as nearly strangers at Netherfield in particular. Elizabeth was the first to recover, and simply replied, "Prepare yourself for something very dreadful. The first time of my ever seeing him in Hertfordshire, you must know, was at a ball—and at this ball, what do you think he did? He danced only four dances, though gentlemen were scarce; and, to my certain knowledge, more than one young lady was sitting down in want of a partner."

Darcy felt himself relieved with her quick response, unflattering though it was to himself, especially when juxtaposed so sharply against his jovial cousin who would never dream of sitting out a dance if an amiable partner was to be found.

"I am ill-qualified to recommend myself to strangers," he replied as his defense, though his tone was still light. Elizabeth merely arched her eyebrows in reply, and turned back to the colonel asking, "Does your cousin now claim to be shy? I cannot quite reconcile that with my knowledge of him."

"I can resolve your confusion," said Fitzwilliam with a loud laugh, "It is because he will not give himself the trouble."

Elizabeth could tell this comment struck too near-home for Mr. Darcy and was strangely thankful when Lady Catherine called out to know what they were talking of. Elizabeth immediately began playing again, and their conversation ended. Mr. Darcy remained by the piano as she continued to play, but the Colonel, sensing he had overstepped, moved away to redirect their aunt who was now approaching.

Mr. Darcy opened his mouth as if to speak several times, but nothing further was discussed. Elizabeth had the luxury of feigning concentration on the music, but her emotions were running wild inside her. The fact that Mr. Darcy seemed still willing to approach her, and the ease with which they were able to jest with one another brought her further from feeling awkward in his presence. The night ended in such a manner, and with a meaningful look to him as she curtseyed a farewell, she left with the Collins'.


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning, Darcy took his ride toward the parsonage, a direction he had avoided so far this visit. After their exchange of conversation last night, he had come to hope even just a little that Elizabeth might start to forgive him. He had detected a softening of her attitude toward him, and his hopes were excited. A ways north of the parsonage, he spied her. She was moving toward the garden gazebo at a leisurely pace. He took a deep breath to steel his courage and encouraged his horse in that direction.

When Elizabeth heard the approaching hoof beats, she turned and gave him a small smile. She looked uncomfortable still, but at least she was not openly avoiding him. He asked if he could join her, and she accepted his arm after he dismounted. They walked in silence as they entered the walled garden, each too nervous to begin any conversation.

Elizabeth was delighted by the sensation she felt from holding on to his strong arm. They continued to walk in silence, and she let him guide her toward the shelter that was the central focal point of the terrace. She paused as they were under the archway, stopping to smell a rose that was climbing up the trellis on one side. Darcy admired the pretty sight she made with her eyes closed, leaning over into the flowers. He reached past her and picked one of the blooms from the bush. He took a minute to peel off some of the bigger thorns, and handed it to her. She smiled meekly and accepted it. They were standing so close, and reminded of how their night at Netherfield had started, and her heart began to race.

Mr. Darcy saw her eyes soften toward him and he felt it safe to venture a kiss. Her lips parted for him as he gently explored her mouth with his tongue. His hands travelled along her arms, feeling the soft exposed skin and moved in a motion as if to warm her. She responded by leaning closer into his body, allowing her hands to envelop his torso under his jacket, the flower he had given her quickly abandoned on the step beside them. She knew she should stop, but her body yearned for that feeling of release again. They were secluded from view in the garden, and she had not seen anyone on her previous walks any other morning, so she boldly continued.

Her fingers scratched lightly at his back through his shirt, and he pulled her closer to him. She was drawn in by his closeness and felt as though their kisses we healing any misunderstanding between them. Instead of fear and shame at her actions, she could not help but notice how right everything felt this time around. His hands ventured over her back and sides, occasionally coming up to tenderly caress her face. She boldly deepened their kiss mimicking the gentle movement of his tongue. He let out a soft but deep moan. His reaction made her somewhat elated that she had the power to draw out of him a similar response to what he made her feel before. She allowed her hands to begin to wander more freely over his defined chest and shoulders, and he responded by kissing her more fiercely.

She knew not what possessed her, but she was enjoying his response to her touch. One of her hands ventured down the front of his stomach and bravely descended to his growing hardness. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, but slowly stopped her hand with his own.

"Elizabeth," he begged, "You know not what you do to me."

"I did not know what you did to all those months ago, but I let you continue… will not you let me do the same for you?" She hardly recognized her own voice asking to perform such a scandalous act and out in the open no less.

"I will not be satisfied in my breeches like a schoolboy," he replied with a small laugh. "Elizabeth, you do not know what you are asking… what you are provoking in me."

She bit her lip with a tempting grace and freed her hand from his. She boldly reached for the clasps on his trousers and leaned up to kiss him softly as she unbuttoned them. He allowed her to continue, lost to his own desires and unable to bring his mind back from the edge her touch had driven him to. He gripped at the framing of the gazebo around her as her small hand clasped around his hard member, tracing a line up to the tip and finding a little wetness there to smooth the travel of her fingers over the area. She seemed to pause there, and he stopped kissing her to look down at her face. She softly confessed that she did not know how to proceed, but that she wished to continue. He reached one hand down to guide hers, and once she picked up the rhythm, he brought his hand up to caress her face and then rest on her shoulder as if holding on to steady himself. With one hand, she caressed him tenderly between his legs while the other slid firmly up and down his shaft, and he found himself coming to the edge must faster than he ever had in the past. Her touch brought him to another level, and he kissed her harder as his body tensed and he felt relief coming. He came to his senses long enough to pull a handkerchief from his pocket to protect her dress from his release.

He stepped back to straighten himself up and refasten his buttons before returning to her. She looked a bit nervous, but he moved in to kiss away any lingering doubt. She moaned at the passion with which he held her. He wanted her to feel again that pleasure she had felt before. He held nothing back, letting his hands venture all over her body. He found his way through the layers of her dressing to the wetness between her legs. He firmly pressed his fingers in her folds and against her clit, spreading the moisture to allow his fingers to caress her softly. His lips greedily kissed her neck, and his other hand gripped at her waist. He heard her whisper his name in ecstasy, "Oh William…" His heart felt full hearing his name on her lips in such a passionate exclamation. He pulled back from her slightly, and at the confused look on her face, took her hand and led her to a bench in the gazebo. Once she was seated, he kissed her as he knelt, letting his lips trail again down her neck as his hands moved her dress up past her knees, exposing her soft thighs. His lips began to trace up her leg, sucking gently and causing her to gasp. He drew back and she stared down at him, a bit surprised at his forwardness. When she did not stop him, he returned his mouth to between her legs. His tongue flitted between her moist lips and into her folds. She gasped quietly, clearly trying to stifle a louder exclamation. His warm, wet touch as he kissed and sucked her caused her to tense. He moaned slightly into her and the vibration of his voice sent shock waves through her. His tongue traced up and down her wet slit, and without thinking, her hands began to run through his hair and pull him harder against her. He inserted a finger into her and moved it in rhythm with her rocking. His tongue concentrated on massaging her mound. He could barely breathe, but he would not surrender until she found release. Her moans grew until she came, tensing around his fingers and clinging to him with her arms.

He slowly unwound himself from her, allowing her to right her dress. She smiled meekly at him once she was done, hardly knowing how to explain her own actions. How had her anger and determination to avoid him from months ago transformed in an instant to longing again for that passion connection? Her boldness in pleasing him surprised her as well and she suddenly felt a clarity about her own feelings. Enlivened by this passionate awakening, she wondered if he could forgive her harsh words of rejection from months ago and offer for her again.

He sat next to her on the bench and took one hand in his own, bringing it up to his lips. "I was not expecting that," he said softly, searching her eyes. "I rather thought you might still be angry with me."

"Perhaps I was for some time, but it does not matter now," she replied resting her head against his shoulder.

"And what changed your mind?"

"I had begun to think that you approached me at first because you thought so ill of me that I would accept such attentions," she started, looking up at him to assess his reaction. "But I have realized that you have shown tenderness and care for my response, something that would not have happened if you thought me so far beneath you."

He shook his head, unable to form the words to reassure her of his dedication to her.

They sat in mutual silence for a few moments before they heard the approach of a horse in the distance. Calmly, they checked each other's appearance, Elizabeth fixing some of the damage she had done to his hair with a small smile. He gave her a light kiss, and for a moment their eyes met with a certain understanding.

They walked out together from the walled garden to find the Colonel approaching around the bend. "Good day, Miss Bennet!" he called out as he closed the distance between them and dismounted his horse. She replied with her warm greetings while smiling to herself at the secret shared with Mr. Darcy. It amused her that something so scandalous had just transpired, and yet the Colonel was oblivious to it and wishing her good morning as if nothing untoward had just occurred.

"Darcy, our aunt is furious you were absent at breakfast and insisted I ride out to find you," Richard said apologetically. "Something about a road, or Anne, or some tenant, or Anne… you know she has so many things she wants out of you."

Darcy looked uncomfortably at Elizabeth, keenly aware that she had originally thought months ago that he was engaged to his cousin. She smiled awkwardly, but her small squeeze on his arm reassured him that she was not affected by Richard's insinuation.

"I will return shortly then, thank you for finding me," he said stoically. He then made to continue his walk with Elizabeth, but Richard appeared confused by Darcy's moving away.

"Darcy, truly I think she will send out the whole household to look for you if you do not return soon."

Darcy began to look truly annoyed at his cousin and replied with some frustration that he would escort Elizabeth back to the parsonage and then return to Rosings.

"I can take her back, if you don't mind my company, Miss Elizabeth," Richard volunteered with a broad smile. Elizabeth sensed for the first time there might be some competition waging between the two young men over her attention. Poor Colonel Fitzwilliam did not realize how far removed from her thoughts he was indeed. She smiled up at Darcy playfully and told him she was content to be escorted back by his cousin. He questioned her with a silent look, and her slight nod indicated that everything between them was understood. He reluctantly remounted his horse and bid his cousin and Elizabeth farewell with a promise to call on the parsonage later. With a last nod to her, he galloped away knowing that the sooner he could reach Rosings, the sooner he could return to her.

The Colonel offered Elizabeth his arm and led his horse behind them with his other hand. They spoke of light subjects before she inquired out of curiosity about Mr. Darcy's sister. The Colonel told her that he shared guardianship of her with Mr. Darcy. They spoke of her interest in music, and he reaffirmed the strength of her talents there. Elizabeth replied, "She is a very great favorite with some ladies of my acquaintance, Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley. I think I have heard you say that you know them."

"I know them a little. Their brother is a pleasant gentlemanlike man—he is a great friend of Darcy's."

"Oh! yes," said Elizabeth with a small smile; "Mr. Darcy is uncommonly kind to Mr. Bingley, and takes a prodigious deal of care of him."

"Care of him! Yes, I really believe Darcy does take care of him in those points where he most wants care. From something that he told me in our journey hither, I have reason to think Bingley very much indebted to him."

"What is it you mean?"

"It is a circumstance which Darcy could not wish to be generally known, because if it were to get round to the lady's family, it would be an unpleasant thing."

"You may depend upon my not mentioning it."

"What he told me was that he congratulated himself on having lately saved a friend from the inconveniences of a most imprudent marriage, but without mentioning names or any other particulars, and I only suspected it to be Bingley from believing him the kind of young man to get into a scrape of that sort, and from knowing them to have been together the whole of last summer."

"Did Mr. Darcy give you reasons for this interference?"

"I understood that there were some very strong objections against the lady."

Elizabeth's heart dropped and her stomach clenched. "And what arts did he use to separate them?"

"He did not talk to me of his own arts," said Fitzwilliam, smiling. "He only told me what I have now told you."

Elizabeth made no answer, and walked on, her heart swelling with indignation. After watching her a little, Fitzwilliam asked her why she was so thoughtful. She would not trust herself with an answer, and therefore, abruptly changing the conversation talked on indifferent matters until they reached the Parsonage. There, shut into her own room, as soon as their visitor left them, she could think without interruption of all that she had heard.

She was not surprised to hear that Mr. Darcy had felt it necessary to separate his friend and her sister, for he had relayed similar feelings about her family and connections when he proposed in the fall at Netherfield. It was therefore not shock at his actions, but hurt that compelled her to spend the rest of the day in her room complaining of a headache. When the party made to leave for another evening at Rosings, she remained behind, unable to face him. She wandered about the empty house, re-read Jane's subdued and somewhat desolate letters from the past few weeks, and thought to herself, how could she ever forgive him for causing Jane such pain?


	7. Chapter 7

When Elizabeth was absent from the Collins' party at Rosings, Darcy knew this was his chance to approach her to finally, hopefully gain her hand. He was not going to be the fool again and wait any amount of time to speak with her after the disaster of misunderstanding that had transpired in Hertfordshire. He excused himself quietly to his confused cousin Richard, and slyly evaded the notice of his aunt. On his ride over to the parsonage, he tried to sort out in his head what he would say. This time he would be kinder, for now he realized that nothing mattered except being with Elizabeth. His heart jumped with the image of her at Pemberley, walking through the grounds, her laughter ringing through the halls, her form next to him every night.

At the parsonage, a young maid admitted him and led him to the sitting room. Elizabeth sat in the corner and looked up from a letter she was reading with an expression of surprise. Darcy moved toward Elizabeth, and he pulled her into an embrace. He felt her tense in his arms, an unexpected response given their parting that morning. Still holding her close, he questioned her with a whisper, "Elizabeth?"

Her arms pushed him away lightly as she replied, "Please, no." Freeing herself from his embrace, she moved away from him toward the hearth. He stood alone in the center of the room feeling suddenly cold. Somehow he must have mistaken her feelings again. He began to apologize for his actions in the garden, when she abruptly stopped him.

"I realize my change in attitude since this morning must come as a shock to you, but I assure you that what transpired between us warrants no expression of regret. I have come to terms with my actions and yours and demand no apology from you. I was just as willing a participant as you." Here she paused as her voice trembled and tears filled her eyes. He waited in confused silence for her to continue.

She turned her gaze to his with a look that pierced him. Her eyes shone brilliantly from her tears, and he could not help but think how painfully beautiful it was.

"Did you know Jane was in London all winter?" she asked shakily. Every part of her wished, hoped the Colonel had been wrong, that Mr. Darcy had played no part in her sister's pain.

The question took him by surprise, and without much thought, he answered in all honesty, "I became aware of her presence shortly after the holiday."

He could see her countenance turn from apprehension to disbelief. Her lips pursed and when she spoke again, the quiver in her voice had turned steady, icy.

"Did you intentionally separate Mr. Bingley from my sister?"

Darcy took a deep breath. He could try to deny it; in fact, he could see no happy outcome from this conversation if he did not. Yet it was against every fiber of his nature to practice deceit. He had to wonder why Elizabeth would only confront him now about this. Everything that morning had been so peaceful, and now her entire demeanor had switched. He shook his head to himself and brought his hand up to his face, rubbing along his jawline at the shadow of his beard already starting to show again. Richard. Of course, his cousin must have repeated some stupid thing he had told him about Bingley when escorting Elizabeth back to the parsonage that morning. Guessing the source of this revelation did nothing to help him figure out how to rectify what was becoming an increasingly disastrous situation.

The silence hung between them for several moments before she shook her head and turned away from him, his answer evident from his lack of response. She was not looking at him but continued, "No motive can excuse the unjust and ungenerous part you acted there. You do not deny that you have been the principal, if not the only means of dividing them from each other, of exposing one to the censure of the world for caprice and instability, the other to its derision for disappointed hopes, and involving them both in misery of the acutest kind?"

His hands continued to rub the disbelief from his face, tracing over his brow line with pressure to try to alleviate the headache that was growing there. How had his hopes once again come crashing down so horribly? He thought to himself how ungenerous his actions seemed when cast in this light. He certainly had hoped to save Bingley from a loveless, wealth-seeking match with a girl from a family who displayed the grossest of improprieties. He could no longer deny however, that when Bingley followed him to town the day after the Netherfield ball, perhaps some part of his motivation in talking his friend out of returning to Netherfield had been driven by his own desire to put as much distance between himself and the Bennet family, in particular Elizabeth. Her rejection of his initial proposal had stung, but he had acted selfishly in persuading Bingley to remain in town. The arrival of the Bingley sisters in London had all but closed off his friend's options to return to Netherfield, and Darcy had been content with that conclusion. Until now.

Darcy finally replied, "There was a time when I might have rejoiced in my success in separating my friend from your sister. After the ball, I even thought I was being kinder towards him than I had been towards myself."

Elizabeth still stood a wide distance from him, her arms crossed and her face set in stony anger as she looked at him. He continued, "I had not been long in Hertfordshire, before I saw, in common with others, that Bingley preferred your eldest sister, to any other young woman in the country." He walked over to the window and continued his speech to the cold glass, as though if he did not have to look at her, it might be easier to say.

"The general expectation of their marriage made me closely observe his affections and hers, and I thought I witnessed an inequality of affection- my friend's partiality beyond what I had ever witnessed in him, while hers displayed little symptom of peculiar regard. She did not invite his attentions with any participation of sentiment."

Elizabeth opened her mouth to reply, but Mr. Darcy turned to see her reaction and rose his hand to bid her to let him continue. "Your superior knowledge of your sister I defer to. I realize that my perceptions of her feelings were certainly not just if she has been feeling his absence keenly since the autumn, but I must admit that my own pain likely played a part in my prejudice."

At this, he turned away from Elizabeth, unsure if he could maintain his demeanor if he had to keep looking at the anguish in her face. After a moment's pause, Elizabeth continued for him in a softer voice, "You feared that your friend's affections were greater than my sister's, just as yours had been for me."

He nodded, still turned away from her. "It was simple to keep him in London after he followed me there," Darcy continued. "And when I learned of her presence there after Christmas from Miss Bingley, I must admit that I did not encourage a reunion. Whether it was to spare his feelings or my own, I cannot honestly say anymore."

His admission pained Elizabeth, for she had almost hoped she could continue to think of him as a villain in the affair. It was easier to hate him for purposely ruining the happiness of her sister than to deal with his clear regret and anguish. Half of her wanted to reach out and comfort him, sorry for any pain she had originally caused with her harsh rejection. The other half still could not forgive his actions and continued to doubt his ability to overcome the inferiority of her family connections and lack of propriety. Had these not been issues, the marriage of a man made wealthy by trade to any gentleman's daughter would have been looked upon as a good match on both sides. Elizabeth wondered if the Bennet family had remained a continued obstacle in Mr. Darcy's mind.

"I suppose the issue of my family did not add to your confidence in such a match," she ventured.

Memories of his disastrous Netherfield proposal rose to his mind, but he realized he had largely overcome such sentiments after that night. He spoke of his altered thoughts in that quarter, but had to admit that there was one aspect that gave him pause. "I wondered if your family might be pressuring your sister into a fortunate alliance. Her good nature is obvious to all, and a willingness to please might come with the unfortunate side effect of accepting a man to please her mother."

At this, Elizabeth swallowed painfully. It was a thought that was not foreign to her, and she was even grateful that Mr. Bingley had been so open with his attentions to Jane while Mr. Collins had come to visit. If Jane were not, as her mother had assumed, "soon to be engaged," her eldest sister might have been forced into a position to choose between her family's comfort or her own happiness. Luckily, that lot had fallen to Elizabeth, whose stubbornness would never have allowed her to wed her cousin, but she could not deny that Jane might have chosen differently.

Darcy waited for Elizabeth to chide him for his ungenerous remark about her sister and mother, but it did not come. The pair stood in silence for a while longer, still separated by the length of the room, which had seemed to grow the longer he had been there.

He turned back to her, and wondered for a minute if he could still win her affections. Could his explanation of his interference have softened her anger toward him? She had warmed her icy tone, at the very least.

"Perhaps you should leave," Elizabeth finally said quietly. "It might cause a scandal if you were found here with me alone. We have been lucky not to be found before now, and I am not ready for that luck to run out quite yet."

Her reply struck him physically, like a punch to the gut. He wanted to stay and press his case, make her forgive him and agree to be with him, always. He knew that outcome was not for today, though. If she could ever forgive him, she would need time at the very least. With a small bow, he turned and left her.

* * *

The next morning, Elizabeth took a long walk throughout the grounds around Rosings. She unintentionally found herself once again at the walled garden where their second thrilling encounter had occurred. Her feelings after that moment with Mr. Darcy had been so different from their night at Netherfield. Instead of fear and regret over her actions, she relished in the ease and pleasure she found with him. And after, had she not heard the dreadful truth from Colonel Fitzwilliam, she would have been surprised if she were not engaged to Mr. Darcy by now. In truth, though she was upset for her sister, Elizabeth also keenly felt the pain of her own loss of a man she was coming to love.

Love. It was the first time she had been able to admit it to herself, and she collapsed on a bench and began to sob. Her heart ached so painfully she thought she might tear it from her own chest. If he had not done this regrettable thing, they might be together, but she could not see how she could ever look at Jane again, see her sister's misery, and accept her own happiness. Knowing that it was her own rejection of Mr. Darcy's proposal that made him more inclined to separate Jane and Mr. Bingley simply cut her to the core. Mr. Darcy's pain was evident, and her heart felt his agony too.

Upon collecting herself and returning to the parsonage, she learned that the two gentlemen had come to bid them farewell before their departure on the morrow, and while Mr. Darcy did not stay long, the Colonel had tried to wait for her return. She could but just affect concern at missing him, but Colonel Fitzwilliam had never been an object. She could only think of Mr. Darcy.

Elizabeth's last week at the Parsonage passed slowly. With the gentlemen gone, Lady Catherine became intolerably overbearing, and only Elizabeth's determination to leave could put off the woman's relentless insistence that she stay longer. Fortunately Saturday finally arrived, and Elizabeth and Maria Lucas departed the parsonage early enough to reach the Gardiner's home in London by the afternoon. Elizabeth finally felt she had mastered her feelings enough that she could talk of the visit to Kent with, at the very least, a feigned pleasure. There was no reason for anyone else to speak about Mr. Darcy, so she would be safe from any conversation that might upset her emotions.

Upon their arrival in Gracechurch Street, Elizabeth was warmly greeted by her family, and the balm of their presence lifted her spirits further. As the footman helped bring her belongings inside, Jane hurried her upstairs. As they entered the room they would share for the next few days before their return to Hertfordshire, Elizabeth was surprised but pleased to see the happiness in her sister's demeanor.

"Lizzy!" Jane began, her cheeks rosy and her eyes bright. "You will never believe it, but a week ago, Mr. Bingley paid a visit!"

Elizabeth gasped and immediately knew that it was Mr. Darcy's doing.

Her sister continued, "And he has come to visit almost every day since!" Jane grasped Elizabeth's hand, and she replied with joy at the change of circumstances.

"And," continued Jane, looking away bashfully, "Oh Lizzy, we are engaged! We walked out to the park yesterday and he told me how these past months have been torture for him and how he cannot imagine spending another day apart from me!"

Elizabeth stared at her sister in disbelief. She imagined Mr. Darcy's guilt must have made him share with his friend the information that Jane was still in town, but she could hardly imagine him giving Mr. Bingley his full blessing to enter into an engagement with her sister. And yet, she could not imagine the amiable Mr. Bingley venturing anything without his friend's approval. Still wondering at the change of events, she pushed her own surprise aside as she hugged her sister tightly in excitement. They continued to discuss every encounter, every conversation, and every tender moment between Jane and Mr. Bingley over the past several days, but Elizabeth could not bring herself to ask if Mr. Darcy had appeared at all in Gracechurch Street.

That evening, Mr. Bingley joined them for dinner. Elizabeth was genuinely pleased to meet him again, for his general joviality made excellent conversation and company. She could not help looking over his shoulder after he arrived to see if another gentleman would enter, but here she was disappointed.

The excited couple again related the tale of their engagement to Elizabeth, how Mr. Bingley had ridden to Hertfordshire and back in one day to ask her father for her hand.

"I could not bear to be apart from my Jane any longer than I had to be," Mr. Bingley beamed, taking his betrothed's hand in his and raising it to his lips. "So I left before dawn one morning and swore to return that evening, so I could claim her hand in the morning."

Jane excitedly interjected here, "The day he was gone, I wondered why he had not called, and I began to get worried all over again."

Mr. Bingley shook his head, "In my excitement, I had decided the evening before that I could not wait any longer to ask for her hand, but I knew I must speak to Mr. Bennet."

"But that meant he did not have an opportunity to tell me he would not call the next day, and being so wrapped up in excitement he forgot to send word." Jane looked up at Mr. Bingley with loving forgiveness only capable of a newly engaged and violently in love young lady.

Elizabeth smiled between the two as they laid out every detail of the tale Jane had already told her once. It was endearing to see them picking up the story from each other one sentence at a time. Over dinner, they continued to discuss wedding plans, and Elizabeth was surprised to hear they would be married before the start of summer, in less than two months.

"Apparently when mama saw Mr. Bingley approach, she… overheard… his and papa's conversation in the study." Jane said with a small eye roll at Elizabeth. "She insisted that he bring back a letter for me where she had already detailed when the wedding would be."

Mr. Bingley laughed as though this were an endearing quality in a mother-in-law, and Elizabeth knew Jane was a very lucky woman to have found such an amiable partner. He continued, "One cannot help feeling overjoyed at the prospect of being married to Jane as soon as possible. And we plan to take a tour of the North for the honeymoon as well."

"Will you go to the Lakes?" Elizabeth asked excitedly, but they replied that their sights were set further north after stopping in Scarborough where most of Bingley's family lived.

Mrs. Gardiner interjected here, "It is a good thing you are not going to the Lakes, as Lizzy might try to stow away with you on your honeymoon!" The company laughed, and Elizabeth jokingly added that she did not deny it. Mrs. Gardiner nodded at her husband and he spoke up over the laughter, "Lizzy, instead of stowing away, perhaps you would like to join us on our trip to the Lakes this summer after the wedding? I think you will be more comfortable in our coach than in a trunk." Elizabeth nearly squealed with excitement, and thanked her aunt and uncle.

Later that night as she lay in bed trying to fall asleep, she thought to herself how much good news had come into her life in just one day. Jane's happiness was contagious, and though she could not help thinking about Mr. Darcy's role in it, she tried not to dwell on him. The thought of her trip to the Lakes was a welcome distraction, but Mr. Darcy hardly left her thoughts anymore. Now that he had rectified his actions in regards to Mr. Bingley and Jane, she could find no other reason to be upset with him except that he had not come to dinner that night.

She hoped Mr. Bingley would tell Mr. Darcy that she had arrived in London, but the next few nights before they left for Hertfordshire, he still did not attend. Before they left for Longbourn, Elizabeth asked, she hoped discreetly, if Mr. Darcy would stand up with Mr. Bingley at the wedding. He shifted a bit uncomfortably and replied that he was not yet sure. He mumbled about some cousin or other, but Elizabeth was left with the sense that perhaps Mr. Darcy's honesty about his part in separating the couple had cost him one of his closest friends.


	8. Chapter 8

Elizabeth stuck a final sprig of delicate white blooms into Jane's hair. Her sister looked radiant and was clearly overcome with excitement and happiness. Their eyes met each other's in the mirror. It was likely the last time they would share a room together, the last time they might get ready for an event or even a normal day in the same room. Elizabeth was happy for her sister, but saddened by the prospect of her own loss of her closest friend. The bond between her and Jane was so much deeper than that with any of her other sisters, but Elizabeth was determined to relish in the joy of her eldest sister instead of lamenting her own loss.

The wedding party left for the chapel only a few minutes late, a blessing given Mrs. Bennet's fit of nerves that morning. Jane remained outside with Elizabeth as the last of the guests entered and found their way to their seats. The turnout was large, with Mr. Bingley's family coming from across England, and extended lines of Bennets and Gardiners coming together to bless the fortunate match of Jane Bennet and Charles Bingley. Elizabeth waited in the eves with her sister and father before entering the church to precede them down the aisle. As the music played and Elizabeth approached the altar, she smiled at her soon-to-be brother. Her eyes widened in shock and her stomach flipped as she saw next to him a most unexpected Mr. Darcy.

The corners of his mouth twitched when he noticed her shock, and she willed herself to keep walking and take her place on the other side of Mr. Bingley. The congregation rose as her sister and father entered. Elizabeth tried to focus her attention on Jane, but could not help looking askance at Mr. Darcy. Her sister reached the altar, and their father bestowed a teary-eyed kiss on her cheek before placing her hand in Mr. Bingley's. The parson started the ceremony, and though Elizabeth was focused on the couple, Mr. Darcy was well within her sight. She caught his eye, and embarrassed, looked back to her sister quickly. He seemed to do the same, but their attention to the couple would not hold. Frequently, she found he was already looking at her when her distracted gaze drifted to him.

The ceremony carried on until finally, Mr. and Mrs. Charles Bingley sealed their union with a kiss. They turned to exit down the aisle after signing the register at the altar, and Mr. Darcy stepped toward Elizabeth, offering his arm to escort her behind them. She knew she was blushing as she interlaced her arm with his. As they retreated, she felt at a loss for words, looking up at him as they walked as if to prove to herself that he truly was there. He noticed her gaze and, smiling, looked down at her.

They climbed into the carriage that would take them back to Netherfield, as Longbourn was deemed too small to accommodate such an impressive turnout. Elizabeth was hoping to speak with Mr. Darcy alone, but her three younger sisters and Maria Lucas thwarted her plans by all clamoring to ride in the same carriage.

"Push over, Lizzy!" Lydia exclaimed. "If we do not ride with you, we will be stuck behind everyone else and likely not even get any food at Netherfield." Kitty and Mary had already climbed in, and Lydia was trying to fit as well.

Elizabeth snapped back at her sister, "There is not room the four of you, and Mr. Darcy and I need to get there straightaway to attend Jane and Mr. Bingley. Do you think your new brother ungenerous enough to not get enough food for his own wedding day?"

Lydia kept protesting, "Just move down a bit Lizzy."

"If I move any closer to Mr. Darcy, I'll be quite in his lap." Maria, who had squeezed past Lydia to fit on the bench next to Kitty and Mary, giggled at this reply. Elizabeth turned to see Mr. Darcy's reaction, which was a mix of amusement and embarrassment.

"Please do not worry yourself, Miss Bennet," he replied, trying to hide his smile. "I am sure we can all fit, even if we are a bit cramped."

"I shall have to get used to being called Miss Bennet, I suppose, now that Jane is Mrs. Bingley." Elizabeth shook her head.

"It is a shame, as Elizabeth is such a beautiful name," Mr. Darcy replied softly enough to not be overheard by the three young ladies across from them. Elizabeth felt the color rise in her cheeks at his compliment, and thought to herself how much she loved to her hear name on his lips.

At that moment, Miss Bingley walked by the other side of the carriage and looked disapprovingly at the scene playing out. She met Mr. Darcy's eye and gave him a meaningful look before saying, "My my, don't you all look cozy in there. Mr. Darcy, there is room with the Hursts and myself. Perhaps you would like a more _dignified_ ride to Netherfield."

"Thank you Miss Bingley, but I am quite comfortable; however, it seems that Miss Lydia finds the situation a bit less to her liking. Since you are such a small party in Mr. Hurst's spacious carriage, perhaps she can ride with you since she is not yet seated with us."

Lydia exclaimed with joy at the prospect of riding in the fancier coach, and before a flustered Miss Bingley could reply, Lydia had already run around the carriage and taken her arm. As they walked away, Miss Bingley shot daggers back at Mr. Darcy who turned back to the ladies in his own carriage.

Elizabeth smiled to herself at Mr. Darcy's quick and witty avoidance of Miss Bingley, and was glad that he would stay beside her on the short ride to Netherfield. She started to apologize for her sister's behavior, but Mr. Darcy brushed it off with a remark about how he was familiar with the peculiarities of younger sisters. Kitty and Maria launched into conversation about Jane's dress and how they thought Netherfield might be decorated, while Mary tried to interject some sensible commentary about the sermon and ceremony they had just witnessed.

Nothing else was said between Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth, but when they arrived at Netherfield, he left the carriage first, helping each young lady out. When Elizabeth exited the carriage last, he held her hand a bit longer than strictly necessary before offering her his arm to escort her inside. He intentionally set a slow pace, hoping to extend his time with her.

"I was surprised to see you standing up with Mr. Bingley today." Elizabeth said once her sisters and Maria had entered the house before them. "I had thought he mentioned some cousin or other who was to fill that role."

"There was a last minute change," replied Darcy solemnly. After a pause he continued, "I confess that up until last week, Bingley and I had not spoken for nearly two months."

"Might this have something to do with what you and I last discussed at Rosings?" Elizabeth asked, her voice clearly betraying her worry over having been the cause of the separation of Mr. Darcy from his friend.

Darcy cleared his throat and was silent for a moment. He did not want to highlight his role in reuniting Charles and her sister. He was glad it all had worked out with them, but he feared above anything else that Elizabeth might place undue gratitude on his repairing his past mistakes. He could take anything from her, except a sense of obligation built out of gratitude.

"Let us just say that Charles was angry with me over some of my past actions, and when he proposed to your sister, he feared that I might not approve of the match still."

"But you told him Jane was in London. If you still disapproved, you would not have said anything. How could he stay angry with you for so long?"

Darcy looked at her in surprise before asking, "How did you know that I told him about your sister's being in London?"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and replied, "I find it hard to believe that you had nothing to do with Mr. Bingley showing up at the Gardiner's but a day after your return to London and after our last conversation."

He laughed at his own foolishness to believe he was hiding that fact from her before he continued, "You see, Charles was rightly angry with me over my decption. I believe he quickly forgave me but feared my reaction upon his engagement to your sister. I thought I would not even be invited to the wedding, but Bingley showed up at my townhouse a week ago. He was distraught because Miss Bingley threatened to not attend the wedding out of protest. Charles was having a hard time convincing her to accept their union, and he did not want her absence to upset Jane into thinking there was any opposition to the match." Mr. Darcy paused and took a deep breath. "He thought that Caroline might come if she knew I would be there… it appears she noticed my absence from Bingley's company and attributed it to Charles's engagement, you see …" Mr. Darcy's sentence tapered off and he looked away and shook his head. "I must admit, I am loath to be used in such a way, but I confess I am relieved I secured Bingley's full forgiveness with my cooperation in his scheme."

"So it sounds like you are back in Mr. Bingley's good graces, and that must please Miss Bingley as well," replied Elizabeth. Mr. Darcy sighed with exasperation, but was too good to relate his true feelings about his friend's sister openly. He simply met Elizabeth's eye and gave her a small, knowing smile.

As they entered the ballroom, which had been outfitted for the wedding breakfast with long tables covered with spring flowers, Miss Bingley exclaimed and approached the pair, giving Elizabeth an unguarded glare. "Mr. Darcy, there you are. What a trick to play on me, sending Miss Lydia to ride with us when she would have been much more comfortable with her sisters." She wrapped her hand through Mr. Darcy's free arm opposite Elizabeth, and said with a pointed voice, "Come, we must discuss something of great importance." Elizabeth excused herself and when she looked back over her shoulder, she could not help but laughing at his desperate look in her direction. She smiled in sympathy as the pair disappeared around the corner.

The breakfast was a wonderful celebration. To Lydia's relief there was more than enough delicious food to go around, and there was even some dancing once the feast was over. Elizabeth kept close to Jane, helping her attend guests and assisting her in any way to make the day go smoother. In between making new acquaintances and overseeing her youngest sisters' behavior, Elizabeth could not keep her eyes from wandering to whatever part of the room in which Mr. Darcy was standing. She watched as Miss Bingley would find her way to him, and he would swiftly find an excuse to move away. He appeared to find a little reprieve with her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner, whom Caroline would not approach, and spoke with them for over a quarter of an hour.

Finally, the celebration was coming to an end, and the crowd was thinning. The Gardiners approached Elizabeth as they were saying their goodbyes to the newlyweds. Her aunt gave her a hug and spoke quietly in her ear, "Lizzy, Mr. Darcy has just informed us that Mr. Bingley and Jane will be stopping at Pemberley on their northern tour at the same time we were planning to reach Derbyshire! He has invited us to stay at Pemberley! Isn't that grand?" Mrs. Gardiner studied the reaction in her niece's face as she waited for her reply.

Elizabeth's eyes flashed over to the corner where Mr. Darcy stood. He was staring quite deliberately at her. She looked back to her aunt and uncle and smiled widely, expressing her enthusiasm over the idea with animation. When she chanced a look back at Mr. Darcy, he was smiling too.

Darcy's heart leapt when he saw Elizabeth's excited reaction to her aunt and uncle. Surely, if she had any apprehension about him left she would not have flashed him such a brilliant smile when she learned of the invitation to stay at Pemberley. Feeling unable to contain his happiness, and not wanting to call Miss Bingley's attention to its source, he excused himself from the ballroom and wandered to the empty library. He sat in the same chair he had been in that night at Netherfield when he had first seen Elizabeth curled up on the settee in the opposite corner. He smiled to himself as he rubbed his chin in his hand, thinking again about how that night had progressed. A moment later, the door opened and he snapped himself out of his daydream and rose to greet whomever entered.

He realized with immense joy that it was her, Elizabeth, and she peered out into the hall before she closed the door. "I thought you might be in here when I saw you leave the ballroom."

He did not reply, still mystified by her entrance and caught up with his lingering thoughts of the first time they were in this room together.

"My family is about to leave, and… I well. I was simply curious how long you plan to stay at Netherfield," she asked boldly moving toward him.

"I am afraid that I leave first thing in the morning. My trip here was somewhat unexpected, and I must return to my sister. She turns sixteen tomorrow, and I must be there to celebrate with her," he replied, almost gloomily as he watched the disappointment in her face. He rose from the chair and moved toward her, meeting her in front of where she stood at the bookshelves. "You are not staying to attend your sister tonight at Netherfield?" He asked hopefully.

She looked up at him, and he could see the color rise in her cheeks. She replied, "With Mr. Bingley's family traveling from so far, there is no room left in the house, especially for someone who lives but three miles away."

He knew it had been a reckless wish, but he had hoped she might stay at Netherfield tonight. After months without seeing her, he was longing for her company. She was standing close enough for him to reach out and wrap his hands around her waist, but he stopped himself. He could not keep taking advantage of her in such a way. He felt he was closer than ever to winning over her heart, but there was a house full of people, and he had to leave before dawn the next morning. This was not the time or the place.

In spite of his silence, she boldly stepped forward, still looking up at him with wide eyes. "I shall see you at Pemberley then," she said quietly, almost a whisper, as she closed the distance between them. She reached up on her toes and her delicate hands landed on his lapels. His head bent to meet her halfway in a tender but meaningful kiss. It lasted but a moment, and then she moved toward the door, opened it, and with a look back at him and a small smile, she was gone.


	9. Chapter 9

Elizabeth swung her bonnet in her hand as she walked down the lane that wound through the beautiful grounds of Pemberley. Though generally cooler than Hertfordshire, the northern countryside was quite warm that day. The sound of the blades of grass dancing like the sea in the wind was punctuated by the satisfying _thwack_ from her bonnet severing a few stalks that were leaning over the pathway as she passed. Three days at Pemberley, and she was beginning to fear that what she had grown to hope for over the past few months might never come to pass. She found a cleared patch in the high grass and sat down, partially concealed by the taller stalks around her. A small flower with delicate white petals poked out from the brush. She picked it and started pulling off the petals one by one, allowing each to blow away on the wind until she was left with a naked stem. In frustration, she threw it off to the side and rose to continue her walk.

Three days, and he had hardly shown her any sign of attention or affection. She had been excited to see him when she stepped out of the coach; her cheeks ached from smiling just thinking about being in his presence again. But beyond a hand to help her from the carriage and a small bow, he had hardly said two words to her. This must be how Miss Bingley feels all the time, she thought to herself sardonically.

Not that there had been much other opportunity for them to speak with the Bingleys, the Hursts, and the Gardiners also staying as guests. Mr. Darcy had introduced her to his sister, and for the better part of the first two days Georgiana, Jane, and Elizabeth had spent the majority of their time together while the men went out riding or fishing. Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst tried to ingratiate themselves with Georgiana constantly, but Elizabeth could tell the young lady was overwhelmed by their attentions, so she sought to shield her a much as was possible. Additionally, Elizabeth and Jane were reunited for the first time since the wedding as Mr. Bingley had taken her on an extended wedding tour. Amongst hours of talking of all that had passed since their separation, Jane shared that her courses had stopped, and that she might be expecting a baby Bingley already.

Elizabeth returned to the house to ready for dinner. A maid helped her change into a muted red dress trimmed with a delicate lace. It was airy enough for the warm temperatures, but one of the nicer dresses she had brought with her on the trip with her aunt and uncle. For someone who rarely spent much time concerned about her appearance, especially in comparison to her youngest sisters, she was extra attentive to the twist her maid put in her hair tonight. Elizabeth thanked her as she left, and made her way to the dining room.

When she reached the top of the staircase, Mr. Darcy and Georgiana had just reached the bottommost stair. Hearing her descent, Mr. Darcy turned and looked up at her. Georgiana also paused and smiled up at her friend. She looked back to her brother, whose attention was clearly consumed by Miss Elizabeth, and with a small laugh left him and went on to the dining room alone.

Mr. Darcy waited for Elizabeth to reach him, took her hand and brought it to his lips. He paused as he looked back up to her face as though he would speak, but words escaped him. He instead offered his arm and escorted her to the dining room. To his chagrin, the rest of the party was already taking their seats, and the one remaining place for Miss Elizabeth was several down from his. Stifling his disappointment, he politely escorted her next to her aunt and Jane and then took his place at the head of the table. Throughout the meal, Darcy could hardly keep up with the conversation going on around him. Every moment he was not engaging Elizabeth made him more and more frustrated. Who could have guessed that having her under his own roof would make it so much harder to find even a moment to speak with her? Between entertaining his guests and the ladies constantly keeping each other's company, he could not find a time to get her alone, at least in a proper setting. He stabbed at a potato on his plate rather ferociously and it bounced onto the floor beside him. Sighing in defeat, he thought he briefly caught a small smile on Elizabeth's face.

After dinner, the ladies and gentlemen parted as they had every evening. Mr. Darcy was inclined to suggest that they forgo the separation, but he felt it would make little difference. Even when they had come together the previous night, the ladies had remained engaged with each other except Miss Bingley who insisted on remaining steadfastly by his side, making snide comments about her new sister and her family. Dejected, he led the men to the billiards room. After a round, he felt his host duties fulfilled and excused himself. He stepped in to the ladies' parlor to bid his sister good night.

"Are you well?" Georgiana asked, sensing his agitation. Elizabeth was sitting next to her, and also looked concerned.

"Quite well, but I must ride out early tomorrow to visit some tenants who are in a dispute," he lied, knowing full well he would be up early, but only to ride out his frustrations, not see to any particularly pressing estate business. "I shall try to make up for the sleep by retiring early."

Miss Bingley sauntered over to their conversation, but before she could say anything, he excused himself. He dared not show Elizabeth any overt attention in front of his friend's sister, though when he wished all the ladies a pleasant evening, he looked at her in particular. She looked unhappy, and he understood. Three days and they had not one moment alone together, but he was not going to be able to fabricate one in this collection of guests.

Once Mr. Darcy left the parlor, Elizabeth could hardly force herself to pay any heed to the conversation going on around her. She had been looking forward to the gentlemen's entrance, but now that she knew Mr. Darcy had retired for the evening, so had no desire to remain in company. After a quarter of an hour's conversation, Jane and Georgiana moved to the pianoforte, but Elizabeth declined the invitation to sing. Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley sat together in the corner, whispering to themselves, no doubt besmirching her and her family. Her aunt was admiring some of the paintings along the far wall, and Elizabeth joined her.

"What a fine house this is, Lizzy," she said as she paused in front of a painting of the house itself surrounded by a handsomely polished dark wood frame. "As a girl in Lambton, I could have never imagined seeing the inside, let alone being a guest here."

"Did you know the family at all?" Elizabeth asked, curious as to the Darcy reputation in and around their estate.

"Only by stories around town. They were a responsible family. The master then, your Mr. Darcy's father, was a reliable man, though he certainly kept to his sphere, not unlike most gentlemen of his class."

"And Mrs. Darcy?"

"She was known as a daunting woman, though I suppose any mistress of such an estate must need to be quite astute and confident to run such an operation."

Elizabeth thought to herself how she might have already been mistress of Pemberley had she accepted Mr. Darcy's offer so many months ago. She could not imagine herself in command of such a house, a whole estate, as grand as Pemberley. Perhaps that was now what Mr. Darcy thought of in his avoidance of her. Perhaps seeing her here reminded him of his responsibilities to his home, and he had decided she was not capable of handling so much. She shook her head to herself. She had to stop making up excuses for a man she had already rejected. What man, having offered once to marry her given their improper behavior, would offer again? He had every right to avoid her. She must have misread his smiles at the wedding, for three days of no conversation sent an entirely different message.

The other gentlemen would be joining the ladies soon, and Elizabeth did not think she could bear more idle conversation. She wanted to curl up in bed and beg for the remainder of their stay to pass quickly. She bid her aunt farewell, and made a quiet exit. Before she reached the staircase, she passed the open library door and thought she might try to avoid her own thoughts with a book. As she stepped in, she breathed in the smell of leather bound books. Her hand ran along the many volumes as she walked down the row. She paused at a section that was well lit by the moonlight from the windows and hoped she might find something interesting there, as the rest of the room was dark and she had no candle.

"If you want something from the top shelf, you will allow me to get it for you?" Mr. Darcy's deep voice sounded from behind her. Startled, she turned and saw his outline rise from an armchair. After three days of wanting to speak with him alone, she was caught by surprise and struggled to find something to say. He too stood in silence still some distance from her. Abruptly he turned away from her toward some of the shelves to her left. He peered closely at some titles in the dark and took a few from the shelf. He returned to her, slipping the books into her hands.

"Georgiana likes some of these, and I think they may be to your taste as well," he said quietly. She muttered a small thanks, but still stood there looking at him.

"You should go," he said sharply, stepping back from her. She nodded, and feeling quite dismissed, made her way past him, a lump rising in her throat. She reached the library door, but instead of leaving, she closed it quietly and turned back to face him.

"Elizabeth, what are you doing?" he asked.

"We have been here together for three days, and I have not had much more than a full sentence from you," she accused, trying to keep the quiver from her voice. She put down the books on a side table and walked back toward him. "I thought… you were… At the wedding, you were… you seemed… happy to see me again," she stammered, hating herself for not being able to form her frustrations into words. He stayed silent, and it did not help her confidence that he was still in the dark where she could not make out his reaction. She continued, "But I am here, in your home, and things are different now… between us. I know I have no right to any expectations from you, but I thought, when we last parted…" she could not bring herself to say it.

"Elizabeth," he started, but she could not read the tone of his voice. "You should not be here. Alone. With me."

"And why not? We have been alone together before," she said as she lifted her chin defiantly.

"Yes, but I can hardly display that kind of behavior toward you anymore and certainly not with your family and my sister but two doors away. The mistakes we made are in the past, and we should not repeat them here," he exclaimed in desperation.

"I see," Elizabeth replied coolly. "Mistakes. That's what you think of me then? I shall not trouble you again, sir." She turned to leave the library, but as she opened the door, his hand reach out past her and pushed it closed. The boom echoed down the hall, but if anyone had heard, he did not seem to care. His arm remained above her shoulder on the door as she turned to face him. His face was inches from hers, and she could finally see his pained expression in a ray of moonlight.

"I love you, Elizabeth," he said firmly. "But you continually and willfully misunderstand my intentions toward you. You have asked repeatedly what I must think of you for your behavior, but I have not had to ask once what you think of mine. Clearly, you think me a man who would continue to take advantage of you and place you in compromising positions without regard for your reputation." He paused, still staring down at her.

Elizabeth stood dumbfounded at his declaration. His lips were so close to hers, and she thought only of how much she wanted his kiss.

"I did not want to be your obligation," she finally replied quietly.

Darcy looked down to her lips then back to her eyes. He could have her here and now, against the library door. He could make her his, and go to her uncle down the hall and demand his blessing. Her family would have to make her marry him, but he knew now that he wanted her to choose him on her own, not out of, as she put it, obligation. "And I will not be yours. Again, you should not be here alone with me."

He stepped back, handed her the books from the side table, and opened the door for her to leave.


	10. Chapter 10

Back in her room, Elizabeth paced back and forth. Her maid had long since retired, but Elizabeth had not even tried to sleep. He loved her. He said he loved her. His silence the past three days was not an indication of his feelings, but a lack of privacy from his other guests. The moment in the library should have been the perfect place to share their feelings, but she had faltered under his sternness and his own declaration. The urgent need to express her own love for him overtook her; she could not go another day without telling him too.

Before she knew what she was doing, Elizabeth found herself in the servant's passage. Her bedroom was the closest to the family's wing, and from three days of observation, she had ascertained which was Mr. Darcy's room. Her heart raced as she turned the corner in the dark passageway. It was very late- past midnight by the last chimes of the hallway clock. The servants would all be asleep by this hour, but it would be scandalous to be caught should someone still be awake. She suffered a brief moment of hesitation when she thought about the consequences of being seen. It would not only be an embarrassment to her, but to her family and Mr. Darcy as well.

Had she not seen the candlelight coming from beneath his door, perhaps she would have returned to her room, but the thought of Mr. Darcy awake and alone bolstered her courage. She listened with bated breath for any sound coming from inside, and hearing nothing, quietly opened the door and slipped into his room.

* * *

Darcy stood on his balcony looking out over the grounds. The summer air was refreshingly cool, and a slight breeze wafted through the open doors into the bedroom behind him. From this vantage point, he could see Elizabeth's windows where the soft light from her candle was now extinguished. His imagination took him to her room, pulling her close to him in her warm bed, his hand running over her smooth curves. He pounded his fist against the railing to reign in his thoughts. He could not go on like this, or he would slip up again. From the first time he approached her at Netherfield, he had wanted to make her his wife. His pride in assuming she would accept him allowed him to put his passion for her before propriety, but he would not allow that to happen anymore. They needed to speak properly, and soon. He turned back inside as he tried to think through discreet ways to arrange for them to talk privately on the morrow.

As he passed through the doors back into his room, he thought his imagination was still running free with visions of Elizabeth. There she was, standing in the corner of his room next to his bed, seeming to look about nervously. She noticed his entrance out of the corner of her eye, and he heard her startled intake of breath, saw the color rise in her face. Seeming to steel herself, she silently reset her shoulders and walked firmly toward him.

He met her halfway, taking her hands into his and, feeling their coldness, brought them up to his lips, kissing her fingers and letting his breath warm them. Silently they stood until she finally said, "I thought that if you can find your way to me at Netherfield, I might return the favor here at Pemberley."

Darcy felt a tightness in his chest. He struggled to find words, any words, to reply. He did not trust himself to move, let alone speak. They stood for several moments more, Darcy lowering his forehead to hers, closing his eyes and taking in the scent of her. Her hands were warming up in his, and he began to rub them softly. Their breath intermingled, and he inched his lips closer to hers. She responded in kind until they were nearly touching, feeling the heat of each other. One of his hands came up to caress her cheek, and then cup her face, pulling her into a deep kiss.

She responded forcefully, reaching her arms up around his neck to pull him in closer to her. The tender intimacy of their embrace deepened into a more desperate passion. Darcy knew he would stop, knew he must, but he was savoring this kiss, for he still had the smallest fear that after what he said next, this might be the last.

"Elizabeth," he finally managed to pull away from her embrace. "You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last autumn, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on this subject for ever." Here he paused briefly before continuing, "But you also must know that I cannot continue in this way any longer. I have always had appropriate intentions toward you and will not continue taking liberties if you do not wish to be my wife."

Elizabeth, still with her arms around his neck, leaned far enough away to meet his gaze, "I love you, William. I came here tonight because I needed you to know that." A broad smile grew on her face. "And, yes, I will be your wife."

She was not sure he had ever seen him express any sort of unguarded happiness before, but she knew after seeing the joy on his face, she would strive every day to try to make him smile in that same way. He wrapped his arms around her waist, and lifted her around in a circle with a laugh. She begged him to keep his voice down, worried that he might be heard down the hall. He lowered her down and whispered in her ear, "Soon you shall be my wife, and we will not care who hears us in this room."

A shiver ran down her as his voice vibrated in her ear. His lips lingered there, and she could feel the warmth of his breath run down her neck. He began tracing kisses there, alternately kissing softly and sucking lightly, causing her to melt her body into his. His hands began to travel up and down her curves, greedily taking in the feel of her form through her light dressing gown. She managed to reclaim his lips with hers, and he slipped his tongue gently into her eager mouth as she moaned with mounting passion. He turned her slightly and pressed her up against the wall next to the door where she had entered. The pressure of his body against hers sent an ache through her. She allowed her hands to lower to his chest and boldly began to unbutton his shirt.

Darcy brought his hand up to still hers, shifting his weight away from her slightly. Swollen lips parted, her look of passion shifted to confusion as she realized his distance from her.

"If we continue in this way, I am afraid I will not be able to stop myself," he said with gravity.

Eyes locked with his, she whispered, "I do not want to stop."

"Elizabeth, I do not think you know what you are asking."

She reached down and untie the sash of her robe. Keeping her eyes locked with his, she let it fall to her feet, leaving her standing in just a thin gown. Her shoulders exposed already, started to slip it off, when he put his hand over hers, holding the last bit of fabric in place that covered her.

He kissed her again, more softly this time. Her hand moved from under his and trailed down his chest down to his stomach. He responded in kind, pulling he r hips into his and plunging his tongue back between her lips. His other hand caressed her breast and her breath began to quicken.

He pulled his lips away again to say, "Tell me you will marry me here at Pemberley, as soon as we can get the license."

"Yes I would marry you tomorrow if we could," she panted. Please William..."

All restraint he had claimed was now broken. He lifted her into his arms, and she wrapped her arms around his neck as he pulled her in for another kiss. Her gown slipped down, dangerously close to exposing her supple breast. Moving toward the bed, he gently seated her at the edge. Stepping back from her, he removed his shirt, fully exposing his naked chest. Slowly, he stood before her, allowing his hand to begin to run up her legs, bringing the edge of her night gown up as he reached in to caress her thighs. He slipped the bottom edge out from under her, keeping his hands along her form as he finally pulled it over her head and freed her fully.

She looked up at him timidly, clearly embarrassed to be so exposed, but passion still lit up her eyes. He leaned in over her, returning his lips to hers and laying her back on the bed. One arm supported his own weight, the other traced up and down her body, applying warm pressure to her skin. He cupped her breast and felt his passion throb as she moaned slightly when he massaged her and traced his thumb over her nipple. He took one into his mouth, sucking softly, feeling it get hard under his tongue before moving to the other. Her fingers ran through his hair, pulling slightly when his hand moved down her stomach on its way to rest between her legs. His fingers teased out the wetness from between her folds, and she moaned quietly as he brushed the sensitive spot at the top of her mound.

Gently, he slipped his finger inside of her, feeling her warm tightness and pushing in until he clearly felt a slight resistance. By now, his member was throbbing, and though he wanted to take her slowly, his self-control was waning fast.

He felt her fingers working the buttons on his trousers, and he raised himself up to give her full access to undo them. Standing up only briefly enough to shed his last garments, he shifted her so that her head could rest on the pillow. Lowering himself down to her body slowly, he savored the warmth of her skin against his along the entire length of his torso. He resumed kissing her, starting at her lips, but moving down to her neck. His hands ran through her hair, tilting her head to pull her into ever deeper kisses. His fingers returned once again between her legs, using her increasing wetness to caress her. He knew now what it felt like to bring her to the edge of release, and he could tell from her panting and shivers at his touch that she was close. He applied a firm pressure with his thumb to her most sensitive spot as he pressed inside her with two fingers now. He felt her hips rocking in a steady rhythm, and it took every ounce of remaining restraint to not join her completely just yet. Her whole body tensed as she arched her back, and he caught her exclamation with his kiss. Still stroking her softly, and feeling her quiver with every pass, he allowed her to regain her breath.

She smiled, but looked up at him slightly confused. Knowing her question, he answered, "What comes next will likely be a bit painful, and I did not want that to be your only feeling tonight." He kissed her forehead and cheek before tenderly meeting her lips with his. "I love you Elizabeth, and in this moment, I consider you already my wife in true spirit."

"I love you too William, and I too already feel that I am yours."

With a few more words of comfort, he positioned himself to enter her. Starting slowly, he pushed only slightly inside of her, teasing in and out as he felt her stretch to accommodate him. With every short thrust, he moved in slightly deeper. Over and over, slowly he advanced into her, feeling her begin to tense as he reached a point of pressure. He paused inside of her, his body now fully on hers. His hand caressed up and down her side, feeling every curve as she shivered under his touch. He took her cheek in his hand and met her gaze. Staring intently at one another, he lowered his forehead to hers and pulled her in tightly to himself, thrusting with one quick and powerful motion to overcome the last barrier. She bit her lip, but did not cry out, though her nails dug into his ribs where she clutched to him. He held her there until he felt her start to relax, and then began to kiss her in rhythm with his slow movements in and out. She breathed deeply, clearly trying to adjust to the new sensation as she overcame the initial pain. She was tight and wet, and he increased the depth of his thrusting. He increased his pace, abandoning every last bit of restraint. He kissed her passionately as he moved faster and faster, cupping her bottom to pull her even closer to him. As he came close to finishing, he groaned as he thrust in deeply one final time before his body shook with release. She in turn let out her own exclamation that cut through his heart as it was clearly more indicative of pain than pleasure.

"Elizabeth, oh Elizabeth. I am such a brute," he lamented as he held her tightly in his arms, hardly daring to move after his violent completion.

"No, no, William. I am fine, I promise you," she assured him with a smile. He could see her eyes watering, and replied, "I find that hard to believe as he freed one of his arms so he could wipe an escaped tear from her cheek.

"I assure you William, I am only so consumed with emotion, but it is a wonderful feeling." Only the smile and assurance in her eyes could make him believe that she was truly uninjured. She began to laugh quietly and he kissed her tenderly before he smiled widely and joined in her laughter. With a final kiss, he unwound himself from her, leaving her only briefly to get a towel for them to clean up before he drew back the covers and nestled in close to her. He kissed her shoulder and continued to caress her arm and side as her form laid beside his.

After a few minutes, she whispered, "I should return to my room."

He hugged her in closer and begged her to stay a bit longer. "I will not have my wife leave my bed so quickly."

"I am going to fall asleep William, and then we will cause quite a scandal."

"Just a few more minutes, I promise I will stay awake and bring you back to your room myself. And if we're found in the hall together, they will just have to make us marry, I suppose."

Elizabeth let out a slight laugh, but relaxed fully in his embrace. Darcy kept himself propped up on his elbow, so as not to fall asleep, and he kept stroking her side. Just continuing to touch her, he could feel his passion starting to mount again, but he knew as willing as she might pretend to be, she had been in more pain than he liked, and she would need time to heal.

A few minutes later, he could hear her breath deepen into the cadence of sleep. As he was wondering how long he could realistically keep himself awake, he heard a knock at his bedroom door. It was something he could not recall ever happening before, as he was on such terms with his valet that he just entered as needed.

The knock woke Elizabeth from her nascent sleep, and she turned wide-eyed to him. He motioned for her to stay put and pulled the sheet up to cover her. He quickly donned a night shirt and made his way to the door. He opened it only wide enough to see Carson on the other side, looking quite nervous.

"I am sorry to disturb you at such an hour, sir, but an express came a few minutes ago for Miss Bennet, and I thought you should be made aware of it quickly as…" He paused to clear his throat, "Ahem- they are now awakening a maid to bring it to Miss Bennet's room."


	11. Chapter 11

Darcy swallowed as he took in what his valet related to him. An express for Elizabeth was minutes away from being delivered to her empty room. And it appeared Carson had some reason to suspect that she was not in fact in there. Darcy had no idea how he might have known, but trusted his discretion.

"I am assuming that since you are coming to tell me this now, you suspect that Miss Bennet may not be there to receive her letter?"

"Yes, sir," was his stoic reply.

"Is anyone else aware of this situation?"

"No, sir," he replied, "Though I suspect that we only have a few minutes. One of the servants took the letter, and awoke Mrs. Reynolds. I awoke at the commotion and overheard her say she would wake Miss Bennet's maid to deliver it, but I suspect it will take some time for her to make herself presentable."

"Thank you, Carson. Please wait here for a moment."

On the other side of the door, Elizabeth heard everything clearly, and was now torn between worry over being found out in the Master of Pemberley's bed by his valet, and what possible express could be so urgent as to deliver in the middle of the night.

Mr. Darcy returned to her, picking up her gown and robe on his way back to the bed. Wordlessly, he helped her dress, and pulled on his previously discarded trousers again. Returning to the door, he whispered something again to his valet, who then bowed and left. Darcy took Elizabeth's hand and pulled her back into the servant's passage from where she had emerged. They turned toward her room, walking briskly. Elizabeth only hoped they reached it in time. Her thoughts once again returned to the embarrassment of being caught with Mr. Darcy out of bed. It would certainly cause a scandal for her and her family, but would not leave him untouched either. She took a deep breath as she remembered that they were to marry, and being caught out of bed would not change that. As much as she would prefer a scandal-free betrothal, all that was truly important was that they were to wed for love not propriety.

As they neared the final turn, Darcy stopped before looking around the corner. "Blast," he whispered when he saw the maid entering Elizabeth's room. He turned back to Elizabeth and said, "It will be known you are not in your bed, but we have another plan." He pulled her along behind him as he picked up his pace down the passage past her room. She kept up with him silently, following him down a dark back staircase and another hall. She could no longer trace where she was in the house, so it was a surprise when they opened a door that turned out to enter into the library. It was cleverly hidden, indistinguishable from the bookcases around it.

Mr. Darcy sat her down in one of the armchairs, and fetched the candle that was already burning on the table next to the door. "Courtesy of my valet," he answered to her quizzical look. Mr. Darcy then quickly found a book on the shelf and handed it to her. "You couldn't sleep so you came down here to read. Carson is directing your maid down here once she does not find you in your room, then he will return to my room to appear to wake me to inform me that one of my guests has received an urgent letter. I will be back with you in but a few minutes."

"You should not come back here, it might look strange," she replied.

"Elizabeth, I am not leaving you alone after what just transpired, and with the knowledge of you down here reading an urgent letter. News that comes in the middle of the night is never good, but be assured I will be back by your side in but a few minutes."

Elizabeth nodded, more worried with anticipation of the letter now that the immediate danger of being found in Mr. Darcy's bed had passed. He kissed her briefly but deeply and disappeared back through the hidden door. Not a minute later, her maid peered in to the library.

"There you are miss! I got worried when I saw you hadn't touched your bed, but I met Mr. Carson in the hall and he mentioned he'd seen you come into the library. I'm sorry to trouble you, but there's an express come for you."

"Yes, thank you Hannah, I could not sleep so I thought a book might help, and I suppose I got carried away with the time." She took the express and the maid quickly left her alone again.

Elizabeth looked down at the letter apprehensively. Mr. Darcy was right, no good news ever came by express in the middle of the night. She considered for a moment waiting for him to open it, but curiosity overruled. She could see it was in her sister Mary's hand, and tore open the seal.

By the time Mr. Darcy joined her, she was already on her third read of the letter. Tears poured down her face and her hand was clasped over her mouth as she started to process its' contents. He came up behind her, and placed a hand on her shoulder comfortingly, but was startled when she shook him off and turned away. He hung back in silence waiting for her to share whatever news had come.

"I must wake my uncle. We must leave at once," she finally uttered, moving toward the door as if to go herself. Darcy stopped her and led her to the armchair.

"Let me go, or I can call for Carson to go, but you are unwell. Let me fetch you a glass of wine." She declined, but he did step into the hall to send his valet to get someone to wake the Gardiners.

"No, no, I am well," she replied, and he again waited for her to continue. She burst into tears, and for a few minutes could not speak another word. Darcy, in wretched suspense, could only say something indistinctly of his concern, and observe her in compassionate silence. At length she spoke again. "The letter is from Mary, with such dreadful news. It cannot be concealed from anyone. My youngest sister has left all her friends—has eloped; has thrown herself into the power of – of Mr. Wickham. They are gone off together from Brighton. YOU know him too well to doubt the rest. She has no money, no connections, nothing that can tempt him to—she is lost forever."

Darcy was fixed in astonishment. "When I consider," she added in a yet more agitated voice, "that I might have prevented it! I, who knew what he was. Had I but explained some part of it only- to my own family! Had his character been known this could not have happened. But it is all – all too late now."

He asked if she was certain and what had been done so far to recover her, to which Elizabeth related that her father had gone to London and her mother begged the immediate return of her brother to help in the search. She concluded, "I hope we shall be off before daybreak."

Darcy made no answer. He seemed scarcely to hear her, and was now walking up and down the room in earnest meditation, his brow contracted, his air gloomy. Elizabeth soon observed, and instantly understood it. Her power was sinking; everything MUST sink under such a proof of family weakness, such an assurance of the deepest disgrace. She could neither wonder nor condemn, Lydia—the humiliation, the misery she was bringing on them all, and yet what had Lydia done that was so different from her own actions? Elizabeth burst into tears again, her emotions completely confused by the news of her sister and her own actions. "I am no better than Lydia," she whispered when she had calmed down enough to speak. "What she has done is unforgiveable, but how is what I have done different?"

"And then are you comparing me to Mr. Wickham?" Darcy replied evenly, "For surely if you are going to compare your actions with your sister's, you must align mine with his."

"Absolutely not!" exclaimed Elizabeth, "You are an honorable man, whereas he is… he is… not." Elizabeth finished weakly.

A heavy silence hung between them. Had this news come only hours before, the prospect of Elizabeth leaving Pemberley would have been certainly disappointing, but now it felt impossible. There could be consequences of their actions tonight, and Darcy was eager to legalize their marriage as quickly as possible. Damn Wickham! How was this man still ruining everything even after he cut him out of his life?

At that moment, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner entered the library, and began comforting their niece as she related the story of Lydia and Wickham. Darcy stayed to listen, but his own plan began to form in his mind. As the Gardiners began to speak of plans, he interjected, "I will also return to London with you, and aid in the search." The Gardiners and even Elizabeth looked all astonishment at his declaration.

"Mr. Darcy," Mr. Gardiner replied, "We cannot ask you to involve yourself in such a matter."

"I must take my share of the blame. As your niece stated before you came, had his character been known this could not have happened, and I bear that responsibility."

"You know very well that is not what I meant!" replied Elizabeth. "You cannot possibly blame yourself for his actions."

"Perhaps not his actions, but for his ability to commit those actions freely in the world without his character being more widely known, I must own my share of the blame. Had not my pride prevented me from being open, this could not have happened." The Gardiners and Elizabeth continued to try to dissuade him of such a belief, but he assured them that regardless of blame, he would accompany them to London. "Once Mr. and Mrs. Bingley are made aware of the situation," Darcy continued, "I am certain they will wish to return to London as well to aid in the search."

After little more discussion, Mrs. Gardiner left to wake Jane and Mr. Bingley, and Mr. Gardiner set out to ready their things and get the carriage prepared, leaving Darcy and Elizabeth alone again. She had not moved from the armchair, and he came to kneel in front of her and took her hands into his. He raised each hand to his lips. They sat silently for several minutes more, Darcy internally trying to consider how best to move forward with their marriage in all haste, and Elizabeth questioning how she could possibly hold him to a promise made before the total degradation of her family came to light. Mrs. Gardiner re-entered the library, stumbling upon the scene of the master of Pemberley holding and kissing her niece's hands. She cleared her throat to make her presence known, and Mr. Darcy rose from his position in front of Elizabeth, and with a small bow quit the room.

Mrs. Gardiner sat across from Elizabeth and watched her niece for a few minutes. "Is there something we should know about Mr. Darcy and yourself, Elizabeth?" she inquired.

Elizabeth replied in the negative, but quickly made her excuses to pack her things to prepare to leave.


	12. Chapter 12

It had been several days since Elizabeth returned to Longbourn. Jane and Mr. Bingley had continued on to London with the Gardiners and Mr. Darcy, but it had been decided it was best if Elizabeth returned home to help with Mrs. Bennet and the household in the absence of Mr. Bennet. Mr. Darcy seemed loathe to part from her and advocated for her to continue on to London with the whole party, but as they had not made their engagement known, his argument held little weight. Elizabeth was disinclined to announce their relationship, as they had not had a moment to discuss their engagement since he had taken her to his bed, before the fateful news of her sister's ill repute had come.

She knew that Mr. Darcy would feel obligated to his offer to marry her, but with such a scandal, she could not in good conscience hold him to the engagement. It felt as if her heart was breaking, but she could not see any happy end to the situation. Should they recover Lydia unmarried, the scandal and ruin of her family would be complete, but even if they found the couple by some chance married or Mr. Wickham amenable to such a conclusion, how could Mr. Darcy accept Wickham as a brother?

Mr. Bennet was a notoriously poor correspondent, so news at Longbourn from town was scarce with only occasional updates from Jane. One letter included a line saying Mr. Darcy asked after her health, but with no direct way to communicate, Elizabeth felt increasingly distant from him. The second day after her return home, she also felt, for the first time in her life, relief at the appearance of her courses. There would be no lasting consequence to her night at Pemberley with Mr. Darcy.

After a week of waiting in frustrating silence, Mr. Bennet arrived home bearing the long-awaited news that Lydia and Wickham had been found and that they would be married. Elizabeth and her sisters pressed him for more details, but beyond this simple revelation, they were not to receive more. He quickly shut himself in his study as the raptures of Mrs. Bennet flowed through the house. When her father did not appear for dinner, Elizabeth brought him a tray and was relieved to be admitted as he ate. She begged him to share everything that had transpired in London, and he slowly began to share. He had arrived in town shortly after the initial express from Colonel Forster, but had little success with no leads to guide his search. For days, he simply wandered the city to no success.

"Admittedly, Lizzy, I was ready to give up all hope until your uncle arrived," he shared, patting her hand, which she had comfortingly placed on his arm. "He was not back two days, and he somehow managed to find Lydia. She was returned to our care, and I was all but determined to return here with her rather than see her married to such a scoundrel, the gossip be damned. I would not have let you marry your fool of a cousin any more than I would have let her marry a rogue, but she insisted, and Wickham somehow seemed persuaded to see it through.

"You mean he was willing to marry her? Why had he not done it sooner then?" Elizabeth asked.

"I have no doubt that your uncle laid out quite a sum to arrange it, and the reason he sent me home was to spare me from how much." He shook his head and rubbed his forehead. "And to spare me from seeing a daughter so disposed of."

"Do you truly think my uncle laid out a sum for Wickham to marry Lydia?"

"Wickham is a fool if he takes her for less than ten thousand pounds."

Elizabeth protested at such a fortune, wondering how half as much could ever be repaid, but her father had no answer. As she began to think of how her uncle could possibly spare so much with a family of his own to provide for, she wondered just how much of this ordeal Mr. Darcy might have taken on himself. After a few minutes of silence, Elizabeth dared to ask her father about him in the most unassuming way she could manage.

"Did you happen to see Mr. Darcy in London?"

Mr. Bennet denied it, though he was aware that Mr. Darcy had returned to town with the rest of her family. Despite a few more tactful questions, it was unclear to Elizabeth if Mr. Darcy had actually been involved in any of the search, at least to her father's knowledge. Though perhaps unreasonable, she was somewhat disappointed that her father had not seen him. She did not know how she felt about the thought of Mr. Darcy asking her father for his blessing on an engagement they had barely talked about between themselves, but the fact that he had _not_ only made her more certain that her sister's affair may have ruined her own chance at happiness.

Within a few days, Mr. and Mrs. Wickham visited Longbourn, despite Mr. Bennet's original refusal to allow his daughter and her new husband entry to the house. Whether it was due to Elizabeth's reasoning that it was important to appear to have the family sanction the union if only to quell some of the gossip or Mrs. Bennet's incessant and extravagant lamentations, Mr. Bennet finally changed his mind.

The couple was to stay for a short time, but Elizabeth found herself counting the minutes to their departure. Lydia was still Lydia, unabashed and irritating in her gloating over being, if not the first, at least the youngest of her sisters to be married. Every comment she made both embarrassed and infuriated Elizabeth, who was the only one who truly understood the depth of her own loss due to her sister's actions. She was not beyond comparing her own behavior with Mr. Darcy to her sister's affair with Mr. Wickham but could not pardon her sister's comportment.

Elizabeth avoided Mr. Wickham's presence as much as possible. He once tried to engage her in their previous favorite topic of conversation, berating Mr. Darcy, but she found a way to silence him on that topic quickly before excusing herself from the room. As much as possible, she went out for walks or found some other engagement to keep her busy. Kitty was most useful in her admiration of their new brother, and kept him and Lydia engaged in constant conversation when she was in their presence.

Despite her best efforts to stay away from him, on his last morning at Longbourn Mr. Wickham happened to overtake her on one of her early walks throughout the garden. She folded away her latest letter from Jane who shared the news that the Bingleys would arrive back at Netherfield soon after the Wickhams left Hertfordshire. _Another reason to wish the newlyweds away sooner_ , Elizabeth thought to herself.

"I am afraid I interrupt your solitary ramble, my dear sister?" asked Wickham, as he joined her.

"You certainly do," she replied feigning a smile and continuing on her walk. He fell into step beside her, quickening his pace to match hers.

After filling in the conversation with some pleasantries, he began to speak of the wedding. "I was glad that your sister Jane could make the ceremony, especially since your father could not. It would have upset Lydia greatly to be married without any family there."

"Indeed," was Elizabeth's curt reply. He paused, biting his lips.

"I was surprised that Darcy decided to attend as well," Wickham seemed to say with a heavy attempt at nonchalance. He looked askance at his walking partner to gauge her reaction, as Elizabeth started and turned white, then felt her cheeks grow hot. "Mr. Darcy was at your wedding?" she asked with a slight quiver to her voice.

Wickham smiled at her discomfort. "Yes, well I heard that you shared the news of our impending joy with him at Pemberley. He was the one who found us out, but I thought of course you were aware of that already?"

"I – I had known he traveled on to London, but was not… why should I be familiar with what he did once he was there?" Elizabeth stammered, uncertain why Wickham was sharing this with her and why Jane had not.

"I'm sorry dear sister, I did not mean to upset you," he replied with a rakish smile, "but I thought I understood you two to be rather… close."

Elizabeth stopped walking and allowed him to carry on a few paces ahead of her before he stopped. "What are you implying?" she asked, not bothering to keep a civil tone anymore.

"Why merely that though the world might believe that Mr. Bingley and your uncle granted your sister an attractive dowry, I know the depth of Mr. Darcy's involvement there." Wickham cocked his head with a crooked smile before he confidently continued, "I can only assume he was acting on behalf of the only remaining Bennet sister worth a second glance." He stepped back toward her and ran his eyes down her and back up with a menacing smirk. "And given that I've heard no announcement of an engagement, I can only assume another… arrangement… has been made."

"I beg your pardon, but what you tell me of Mr. Darcy's involvement in your imprudent affair is news to me," she retorted. She moved to step by him, and as he grasped her by the elbow holding her in place, she exclaimed, "Unhand me! I must beg to return to the house."

He held her as she tried futilely to pull away. In a low voice close to her ear he whispered, "I began to suspect your _arrangement_ since Darcy showed up in London to interfere in my business after learning of the whole ordeal from you. I can only imagine you, poor girl, distraught over the news of your youngest sister's situation, throwing yourself before the Master of Pemberley in exchange for your family's salvation. I always thought it beneath Darcy to take a mistress, but even he appears to have his vices."

He raised a hand to push an errant lock of hair from her face as he continued, "But for you to be caught up with a man you so clearly despised but a few months ago must be awful for you; however, I can ease some of your sorrows, and perhaps show you a bit more pleasure... We were always good friends; and now we could be better."

"You disgust me," she spat at him, bringing her hand up to deliver him a sharp slap across the face. Startled, he let her go, and she staggered back from him, tripping on a root sticking up behind her and falling backwards onto the cold ground still damp with the morning dew. He stood over her for a moment as if he would help her up, but then seemed to think twice.

"I thought I might get a taste of what Darcy is so clearly enjoying," he mocked her bitterly. "Given your past opinion of him, I thought you might take some more enjoyment from someone you did not despise, but I see I have been mistaken. Now I only regret that I did not squeeze more out of Darcy before tying myself to your senseless sister." Leaving her there still on the ground, he stormed away from her and back toward the house. She pulled herself together, knocking the dirt from her dress. Terrified of returning to his presence, she took the long path around the estate, and only returned to the house after seeing their carriage pull away for good.

…

* * *

Jane and Bingley arrived at Netherfield the following day, and by that evening, the two closest Bennet sisters were finally reunited. After assurances of mutual health, Elizabeth begged Jane to give her all the details of what had transpired in London. Jane obliged, and the story was not much different from what Wickham had let on. Mr. Darcy had in fact taken on all the expenses in arranging the marriage between Mr. Wickham and Lydia, and would brook no assistance from their uncle or Mr. Bingley. "Charles protested vehemently, as he felt it was his place as her brother in law, but Mr. Darcy insisted it was to fall to him due to his unwillingness to make Mr. Wickham's character known," Jane shared with her.

Elizabeth shook her head in disbelief and asked her sister why she had not kept her better informed.

"I could not write such a thing should the letter fall in the wrong hands, Lizzie," she replied tenderly. "And think how it would look, for a man so unconnected with our family to assist in such a way."

Elizabeth nodded her agreement, "Yes, I think you are not wrong, for Mr. Wickham came to a similar conclusion, though as he was one of the few who knew the truth of Mr. Darcy's involvement, I think we are safe." Elizabeth went on to inform a bewildered Jane about her encounter in the garden with Wickham and his insinuation of an affair between herself and Mr. Darcy. Jane was unable to think so ill of anyone's character, leaving her in a state of disbelief and only able to focus on her own concern for her sister. Elizabeth assured her she was well, and promised never to be in a situation alone with Wickham again, a promise easy to make with him stationed in Newcastle for the next few years at the very least.

"But Jane, I must confess, that though Wickham assumed more than he knew, there is more than nothing between myself and Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth paused here to gauge her sister's reaction. "Or there might have been, had this whole affair never happened, but as it is now, I do not know any longer where we stand." Jane smiled sympathetically and replied, "I suspected Mr. Darcy was acting out of more than just kindness toward our family, and I am sorry Lizzy, if you think this will change things between the two of you. You will know soon enough though, as he comes to stay at Netherfield in a day or two."

Elizabeth felt hope rise within her. He would not come if he wished to avoid her now! But in the same moment, a crushing thought occurred to her; he might come to break off their engagement in person, in fact, he would be more likely to do so than to disappear without a word. A day or two would tell.


	13. Chapter 13

Two days later in the early morning, an unfamiliar carriage was seen pulling up the drive, and the Bennets' astonishment was beyond their expectation when Lady Catherine de Bourgh entered the parlor. With barely an introduction to Mrs. Bennet or her younger sisters, her ladyship demanded Elizabeth join her on a turn throughout the garden. Elizabeth complied and within a few minutes, Lady Catherine began in the following manner:-

"You can be at no loss, Miss Bennet, to understand the reason of my journey hither."

Elizabeth looked at her with unaffected astonishment.

"Indeed, you are mistaken, Madam. I have not been at all able to account for the honor of seeing you here."

"A report of the most alarming nature reached me two days ago. I was told that you would in all likelihood be soon united to my nephew, Mr. Darcy. Though I know it must be a scandalous falsehood, I instantly resolved on setting off for this place, that I might make my sentiments known to you and insist upon having such a report universally contradicted."

"Your coming to Longbourn, to see me and my family," said Elizabeth coolly, "will be rather a confirmation of it; if, indeed, such a report is in existence."

"Has not such a report been industriously circulated by yourself? Do you not know that such a report is spread abroad?"

She wished she could deny having heard such a rumor, but standing in the very spot in the garden where Wickham accused her of being the mistress of Mr. Darcy, she knew not what to say.

"And where might you have heard such a report?"

"Do not trifle with me Miss Elizabeth. Can you declare, that there is no foundation for it?"

"I do not pretend to possess equal frankness with your ladyship. You may ask questions which I shall not choose to answer."

"This is not to be borne. Miss Bennet, I insist on being satisfied. Has he, has my nephew, made you an offer of marriage?"

"Your ladyship has declared it to be impossible."

"It ought to be so; it must be so, while he retains the use of his reason. But I have it on good authority that your arts and allurements may, in a moment of infatuation, have made him forget what he owes to himself and to all his family. I have been gracious to my nephew in assuming he has behaved in a gentlemanly manner and made you an offer of marriage, but I understand that you may have drawn him into a less honorable arrangement to secure the prospects of your youngest sister! What have you to say to that?"

Elizabeth stared aghast at her guest and replied, "If I have, I shall be the last person to confess it!" To be accused twice in the same garden of being the mistress of Mr. Darcy for the benefit of her family was unbearable. This must have been a parting gift from Wickham after he left Longbourn. A promise of such enticing information about her nephew likely earned him a lovely payday before his journey north.

"Are the shades of Pemberley to be thus polluted? Obstinate, headstrong girl! I am ashamed of you! Tell me once and for all, are you engaged to him?"

Though Elizabeth would not, for the mere purpose of obliging Lady Catherine, have answered this question, she realized she could not truly answer it herself. As much as her heart cried out that they were engaged, nay, married already by some measure of the definition, she would not trap Mr. Darcy here before his aunt to be brother to Wickham. Whatever semblance of a vow they had shared in his bed at Pemberley was torn asunder by the disgrace of her sister.

"She is." Mr. Darcy's voice boomed out as he turned on the path into the garden. He stood under the stone archway with his hands clasped behind his back, broadening his chest in defiance of his aunt. Elizabeth turned toward him and away from Lady Catherine, bringing her hand to cover her mouth as tears started to form in her eyes. Seeing him here, finally, brought an overwhelming relief to her.

Lady Catherine stood dumbfounded at his declaration, and remained motionless though her gaze flicked between the two. Elizabeth stepped toward him, and quietly said, "William, before you make such declarations, we should speak."

"There is nothing to speak about," he replied sternly and loudly enough for his aunt to hear clearly. "You agreed to be my wife at Pemberley." He placed his hands firmly on her upper arms, as though he would shake her. "You told me you would marry me the next day, and now it has been weeks." His voice almost carried a hint of desperation in it.

Lady Catherine finally regained her voice and interjected, "Fitzwilliam Darcy, you are engaged to my daughter. What have you to say to that? Will you leave her so scandalized?"

Pulling Elizabeth beside him and keeping his arm around her shoulders, he replied, "Anne and I are not engaged, and whatever unhappy promise you made with my mother died with her. My cousin and I are in agreement that we shall not wed, and there was never any understanding between us. I believe you have troubled Miss Elizabeth long enough. I myself am done speaking with you about this matter."

With a huff, Lady Catherine stormed past them, muttering under her breath a litany of threats to do everything in her power to stop the marriage. When she was finally gone, Elizabeth slipped out from his embrace and sat herself down on a stone bench in the middle of the garden. Darcy followed her and dropped to one knee beside her, taking her hand in his.

"I procured a special license in London. We can in truth be married in the morning if you so wish it," he said, kissing the back of her hand and then flipping it over to place a kiss inside her wrist.

"William…" she whispered as a tear began to flow down her cheek.

"I am sorry to have been away for so long. I wanted to come sooner, but your uncle insisted I wait until the Wickhams had left Longbourn as to avoid scenes most unpleasant to your family."

"William…" she repeated, almost unable to catch her breath. She began to cry in earnest, the full gravity of the unpleasant scene between herself and Wickham in almost the same spot in the garden finally settling in. As she relayed the details of the ordeal, Mr. Darcy rose from before her and began to pace. As she ended her story with herself on the ground and Wickham finally walking away, Mr. Darcy froze in disbelief. "I will kill him, the ungrateful bastard. I will pursue him to Newcastle and deal with him the way he ought to have been dealt with after Ramsgate." He actually made to walk out of the garden, but Elizabeth sprang after him and clung to his arm, pulling him back.

"William, it is not going to benefit anyone to have you thrown in prison for murdering Wickham. Please, stop and listen to me," Elizabeth begged, turning to face him directly and placing her hands on his chest to stop him from moving around her. "Lady Catherine's presence here today was no doubt thanks to him." She paused as he nodded in agreement and took her hand into his. "He knows he has power over you now through me and my family. He will continue to use me against you for the rest of our lives. William, can you not see? If we marry, you will never be free of him. You will be tying yourself to my scandalous family and Wickham as a brother, and by extension brother to Georgiana. I cannot in good conscience hold you to our engagement."

Her words cut through him, weighing heavily in the pit of his stomach. "Do you think I have not considered this? And are we back to you thinking so little of my character that I would abandon you over such a matter?" His words may have pushed her away, but his hands on hers pulled her closer. "Elizabeth, I can live with anything, but I cannot live without you as my wife."

"There is one other thing you should know," she started softly. "I am not with child from our night at Pemberley. You can still walk away without guilt there." She could not bring herself to meet his eyes, instead turning her face away from his to stare ashamedly at the ground.

Whatever reaction she was expecting, it was not for him to pull away from her so abruptly. Raising his voice he nearly yelled, "Elizabeth, since last fall you have crafted every excuse possible to not become my wife. First, you did not love me, then you would not entrap me. You were angry at me for how I treated your sister, and now you think this scandal should keep me away after I have rectified every wrong along the way. We agreed at Pemberley that we were as good as man and wife, but I will ask you one last time, if your mind has changed, if you do not want to be my wife before God and the law you must tell me now. If you are trying to push me away for your sense of my own good, this is the last time I will tolerate it, but if you are pushing me away because you do not want to be my wife…" at this his voice softened, "then I must let you go." He was standing over her, his anger having backed her against the cold stone wall of the garden.

She looked up into his eyes and saw a raw mix of pain and love there. She reached up and cupped his cheek with her hand. "Of course I want to be your wife, William. I just cannot bear the thought of you coming to regret me someday. My family will never change, and I cannot apologize or blush for them forever. As much as you are a gentleman and I am a gentleman's daughter, I am keenly aware that we come from vastly disparate situations in life. You have a place amongst the ton, and my family's estate is entailed away from us. Your sister will attract men of title and fortune; mine has run off with a rogue. Your earliest sense of my and my family's inferiority wounded your sense of consequence once, and what would I be able to do if those feelings returned?"

Mr. Darcy took her hand from his face and place a lingering kiss on her palm before clutching it to his heart.

"The recollection of what I then said, of my conduct, my manners, my expression during the whole of it, is now inexpressibly painful to me. Your reproof, so well applied, I shall never forget: 'had you behaved in a more gentleman-like manner.' You know not how your words tortured me. I have been a selfish creature all my life, in practice, and never more so than with you. I was raised to care for none beyond my own family circle, to think meanly of all the rest of the world, to wish to think meanly of their sense and worth compared with my own. Such I was, from eight to eight and twenty; and such I might still have been but for you, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth! What do I not owe you! You taught me a lesson, how insufficient were all my pretensions to please a woman worthy of being pleased. Now, I beg you, let me please you forever."

He crushed his lips into hers, kissing her deeply and passionately. He felt her respond in kind, running her fingers through his hair then pulling her arms inside his jacket and wrapping them around his waist. Her warmth mingled with his, and one of his hands cupped her face as the other traced her neck and shoulder before caressing her breast, softly at first, then with increasing firmness. Her bosom, already deliciously displayed by the cut of her dress, heaved as she moaned into his mouth. He pushed against her with his whole body, his hardness obvious against her hip, and his tongue exploring ever deeper into her mouth. Her own hands travelled over his body, up his back at first then around to pull his hips deeper into hers. When he started to pull up the hem of her dress, she managed to stop his kiss, and whispered breathlessly, "William, we cannot. Anyone could come looking for me at any moment."

"Then then will make us marry," he smiled and again kissed her deeply before continuing, "One way or another your family will be aware of our engagement before I leave here today." Her eyes rolled back in her head as he began to suckle her neck and his finger found the wetness between her legs. He let out a guttural noise at her readiness for him. She began to moan and he captured her lips again in his. She was right, they could be found at any moment, but his need for her was so raw, the thought of stopping was out of the question. He could not be as thorough as he wanted, but he knew he needed her now. He undid the clasps on his breeches, freeing his throbbing member and positioning himself at her crest. Picking her up slightly, and using the wall to brace her, he slid into her in one deep stroke. The pain and resistance of their first time was gone and she gasped in pleasure and surprise. Saving patience for another time, he thrust into her with a quick and desperate need. She clung to him, letting her moans escape into his eager mouth reciprocating his movements below with her tongue. He knew he would not last long, his passion for her verging on aggressive. He dug his nails into her supple thigh, and squeezed a breast he had freed from the top of her dress. She clung to his chest as his pace increased and she began to lose control. He wound his fingers into her hair and pulled a bit more than softly to tilt her head back and expose her neck. Nipping at the skin on the side of her throat, he felt more than heard her gasp before letting out a climactic exclamation he half caught with his lips. As she continued to pant with his continued thrusts, he brought his lips to her ear, pausing only briefly to whisper, "Tell me again, Elizabeth, that you will never again doubt my love for you. That you will be my wife now and always."

"Yes," she panted, "Yes William, I am yours." With a last few strokes, his deepest yet, he could no longer distinguish where he ended and she began, and he wrapped her in a full embrace in his arms as he met his release. After a minute of stillness, he loosened their embrace, noting how flushed her face and lips were and how brilliant her eyes shone. He kissed her tenderly as he extricated his body from hers. They both needed a few minutes to regain composure, after which they retreated to sit back on the stone bench. She only released his hand when she needed it to fix her hair, and returned it to him once she had it arranged.

Silently, he stood and she rose beside him, the pair setting off into the house. Mr. Darcy went directly to Mr. Bennet's study, while Elizabeth paced outside the door in the hall. How many minutes passed, she could not tell, but when the door opened, she rushed in to trade places with her intended, and he tread the same path she had over again as he waited for her audience with her father to be over.

Mr. Bennet's blessing was quickly won upon seeing the love clearly etched on his daughter's face and Mr. Darcy's. The only protest he brooked was to the immediacy of the wedding date, which Mr. Darcy had requested take place the very next day. Elizabeth was able to get her father to agree to a mere week hence, with the promise that she alone would break the news to her mother.


	14. Chapter 14

The wedding came together quickly. Thankfully, the extensive planning Mrs. Bennet had done for Jane's wedding just a few months before was put to good use. Some slight alterations and the addition of some new lace from the milliner in Meryton transformed Jane's wedding dress into Elizabeth's. Expresses were sent to London, Pemberley, and Matlock to summon as many members of the Darcy and Bennet families as could make it on such short notice. Georgiana was brought south by the Earl of Matlock and his wife, while Colonel Fitzwilliam was able to collect Anne de Bourgh from Rosings for the occasion, the daughter excitedly defiant of her mother's disapproval of the match. Mrs. Collins, heavy with child, returned to Lucas Lodge to avoid the bluster of Lady Catherine, and her husband, though loathe to anger his patroness, realized the advantage befriending the nephew could offer and joined his wife in congratulating his cousin. The Gardiners and their children were a most welcome addition to both bride and groom, who both felt their role in bringing Elizabeth to Pemberley and the value of family members for which there was no occasion to blush

The day, though warm, carried off beautifully, and between smiles and tears of joy, Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy were joined together as husband and wife. The party being significantly smaller than that on Jane and Mr. Bingley's day, the wedding breakfast could be held at Longbourn. Mrs. Bennet was humbled into near silence by the presence of such prestigious a person as an Earl, but her warm, open regard for Georgiana instead of being off-putting, made Miss Darcy fondly recall the warmth of a mother long forgotten. It was decided that Miss Darcy would stay with the Bingleys for some weeks to give the newlyweds some privacy at Pemberley, and the two remaining Miss Bennets were already becoming fast friends with her, Kitty eager to have a new acquaintance her own age, while Mary appreciated the benefit of Miss Darcy's talent at the pianoforte.

Despite being eager to be on his way with his bride, Mr. Darcy was happy and sociable as ever Elizabeth could remember him, and she was pleased to see that in familiar company he could be a most agreeable companion. She would be a benefit to him in helping him increase his ability to speak with ease amongst strangers, as he would be to her in elevating her education, knowledge of the world, and place in society. As she looked fondly across the room at him, their eyes met and a small smile overcame them both. Mr. Darcy excused himself from his conversation, and made his way back to his bride. A short agreement between them determined that it was time to leave. With all the well wishes of their families, the new and happy couple departed Longbourn.

In the week leading up to the wedding, Mr. Darcy had spent a full two days seeking out the ideal spot for their official wedding night. With it being a two day journey to Pemberley, he did not want their first night as man and wife to be at any regular roadside inn. Setting out on horseback, he himself found private lodgings less than a day's journey from Hertfordshire that would serve as the perfect setting for their first night as man and wife. Despite preempting their vows, Darcy was determined to make the night just as important, and looked forward to being able to sleep with Elizabeth in his arms and wake with her still there in the morning.

Their carriage pulled up to the place, what he called a cabin, but she more rightly called a house. There was a view of a small pond out the back, and it was rather secluded in the woods off the main road, a most convenient situation, both in beauty and location. The proprietor lived nearby and sent some staff to cook for and serve the couple for their stay. It being dinnertime upon their arrival, the couple felt obliged to eat, but did so rather quickly and silently, most of their communication through furtive glances at each other followed by sly smiles. When they finished, Elizabeth excused herself to change from her dress, and Mr. Darcy took in the view of the pond over some post-dinner port. Anticipating her return shortly, Darcy paced back and forth in the small living room, eventually picking a book of Cowper's poems from a small shelf of literary offerings. He picked a lovely poem he thought might awaken her romantic sensibilities, but after a half an hour had passed, he was growing quite impatient for her. A second glass of port gone, he decided to check on his wife.

Elizabeth stood with her back to the door, the last orange rays of the day's light splashing across her, perfectly framed in the window. She was brushing out her hair, the tight curls now subdued into soft, shiny waves tumbling down her back. At the sound of the door opening, she turned to her husband with a wide smile. "This view is quite lovely," she commented looking back out over the sunset as it cast its vibrant pink light on the reflection of the pond. He replied that he could not agree more; she was draped in the golden light, and stood so temptingly, in a scandalously cut red gown. He approached her, and pulled her into an embrace, her back pulled into his chest with them both watching the last breath of day give way to the deep blue of the night. He had never felt a fabric so smooth, and the bold red color set his imagination aflame. "And where did you procure a garment such as this? I have never seen anything quite so… bewitching," he asked as his hands flowed over the smooth silk that clung to her curves. Her warmth radiated under his touch and he felt her quiver as his hands firmly traveled her body.

"My aunt was bold enough to bring the fabric from my Uncle's storehouse in London, and the seamstress in Meryton did not have time to create a new wedding dress for me as I asked her to make this as her first priority. I am glad you like it," Elizabeth said as she turned into his embrace and began to unbutton his sash and shirt. "I can wait no longer for you, husband," she boldly continued, standing up on her toes to pull his lips to her own. He scooped her up into his arms and brought her to the bed. Silently, he removed his remaining clothing, his eyes never leaving hers. Her own lovely garment was cut high up on one side, exposing the flesh of her thigh in a most tempting way. He first brought his lips there, kissing up the outside of her leg to her hip, then bringing his lips to suck gently on her inner thigh, her sharp intake of breath indicating her early pleasure.

He brought his fingers to her opening, and found her wet and eager for his touch. He slipped his long finger inside of her as his lips moved to the most tender spot at the top of her opening. Her quick breath transformed into a moan, as she collapsed back on the bed, her back arching and eyes rolling at his caresses. She allowed herself to accept his touches and found her own hands adding to her pleasure, one grasping her own breast, the other reaching for his growing member. After a few minutes with her hips increasing in movement to match his pace, Darcy's mouth left her wetness, and he slipped a thin strap off her shoulder and freed her breast from her own hand, pinning her wrist beside her head. "That is my job," he whispered hoarsely in her ear, sending shivers down her neck, before taking her breast to his mouth. He started gently licking her until her nipple hardened, the little bumps around the center creating an arousing texture under his tongue. He started to suck at her breast more firmly, aggressively even as she moaned louder. He desperately wanted to make her cry out loud for all the times before now when they had had to be silent and suppress their passion. The servants had been sent away for the evening, and he wanted his wife to fully express her pleasure.

To his joy, he found the ties at the back of his wife's sultry gown allowed him to remove it from her without changing their position, and at last he had her under him, fully exposed, flesh to flesh. He paused in his ministrations to cup her face, bringing her into a most passionate kiss. Unable to exert his patience further, he separated her legs with his knees and slowly slid his throbbing member into her pulsing wetness. She moaned and he encouraged her by sucking gently on her neck. Her free hand ran over his chest, the other wrist still held firmly in his grip. He moved slowly, teasingly almost, in and out of her, pulling from her the same slow pleasure for himself that she had enjoyed from his touch.

Elizabeth's pace started to quicken as his hardness inside her began to stir a deep warmth, and her clit was massaged by his pelvis pressed against hers. She started to tense and the pitch of her voice increased as she moaned. She seemed to start to check herself, but Darcy wasted no time in stimulating her further, sucking her other breast forcefully and using his free hand to pull her hips up so he could fill her deeper. He begged her to not be silent and even refused to catch her gasps with his lips for want of hearing her passion. Increasing his pace, he felt her pulse around him with a strong pressure that he met in equal return, and with several last forceful thrusts, he was satisfied with her passionate exclamation during her climax. His own just several strokes away, he allowed himself a most animalistic moan with the building sensation along his shaft as he slid in and out of her, finally finishing at a depth he did not think possible.

* * *

The morning light crept in to the room through a narrow gap in the curtains. Snuggled up against him, his wife, his dearest, loveliest Elizabeth fit perfectly into his form, and he gave her a tight hug to bring her even closer to him. She stirred slightly with a small smile on her lips and softly opened her eyes, turning to look at him. "Good morning, William," she said softly. He placed a tender kiss on her lips, and she commented on how soundly she slept and her complete state of comfort. He returned the sentiment, continuing with, "I look forward to many such a night with the mistress of Pemberley."

"Only the nights?" she asked playfully, a daring look in her eyes. He laughed and kissed her deeply, showing her once again how thoroughly he enjoyed Mrs. Darcy, all the time.

* * *

THE END

Thank you all for your patience as I created this story. This has been a much needed outlet during some difficult times over the past year and some months. I am so pleased to have been able to finish this, and would not have done so without so many of your kind and encouraging comments. Writing is a new journey for me, and this content seems to me to be a strange place to start, but my imagination has been aflame with this romance for a long time. I have seen many fanfictions that hold to the decorum of Darcy and Elizabeth getting intimate only after their wedding, but I wanted to play with the story where they are unable to suppress their passion, yet still needed to live in the confines of their Regency propriety and the original storyline. Thanks for being a part of this journey, and I hope you continue to enjoy and come back to this story.


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